


time flies by (in the yellow & green)

by brookethenerd



Series: Time Flies By AU [1]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Forbidden Love, Monsters, Reader-Insert, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2020-09-25 03:36:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20370034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brookethenerd/pseuds/brookethenerd
Summary: Steve Harrington AU in which the reader is pulled through the Upside Down and back into 1985. Finding a way back is hard, even with the help of new allies, and falling in love makes things ten times worse (aka a sprinkle of time travel, more monsters, our favorite gang, and a handful or more of angst)





	1. part l

**Author's Note:**

> find me & this fic on tumblr @ harringtown :)

To say that you’re having a bad day would be a massive understatement.   
Not that the day itself was bad. School, dinner with the family, some boring homework. It was mediocre at best. But normal. 

It was the run. Out on that jogging path where everything went to shit. You knew going out at night, especially in 2019, wasn’t the safest thing. Dangerous world, dangerous people, blah, blah, blah. But you always brought pepper spray with you, clutching it like a weapon. You always ran the same route, the one you’d discovered years ago. In your mind, that worn path through quiet forest was the safest place on earth. 

Until it wasn’t. 

You made it a mile into the run, half a mile from the turn around point, the thick trees swathing you - and everything - in darkness. Your feet knew the way after all this time, and your thoughts bobbed between the music in your ears and a conversation with your mom about errands the next day. 

A twig snapped, loud enough to hear through your headphones, breaking through the thrum of music. You tugged your headphones out after the second noise, slowing to a stop, turning in a slow circle. There was nothing to see in the dark forest, but your weak eyes strained across the trees. 

A low growl sounded from the trees behind you, and that was all you needed to run the hell away. You didn’t think many bear sightings had happened in Hawkins but you weren’t about to take the chance, starting back the way you’d come, not caring about the phone that slipped out of your fingers and hit the dirt. You ran, thankful you knew the path, feet slapping the hard dirt until thin, bony fingers snatched the fabric of your tank top and tugged. Like a rag doll, flying backward, the breath knocked clean out of you. 

The trees turned to silhouettes around you, waiting for something you couldn’t see. The hair on the back of your neck shot up, and you gasped for breath, brain desperately trying to restart. Everything inside screamed _run_, but fear had its hold on you, and you couldn’t move a muscle, could barely even breathe. You stayed still on the ground, gasping for air, trying to figure out what the hell kind of animal had fingers. 

The silhouetted trees went black and it took you a moment to realize whatever had attacked you was blocked by whatever light filtered down from the moon.   
A scream bubbled up in your chest and fear let go for a split second, long enough for you to scoot back and clamber to your feet. You turned to run, only to walk straight into a tree. The only thing you felt before the world went black was thin, slimy fingers winding around your ankle. 

* * *

You woke behind an old, but well kept, house, fingers curled into the dirt, body taut, as if thrust back into consciousness. Climbing to your feet on unsteady legs, you surveyed yourself; scraped knees, bloody palms, twigs and thorns woven in your hair, some slimy goo on your clothes, and a killer headache.

Blood tasted of metal on your tongue, and when you reached up to find the source, you found a nose swollen and wet. Your entire body hurt. You were pretty sure you were wearing twigs in your hair like a crown, too. You reached up to untangle them, likely getting splinters in the process, but you were too shell shocked too care. 

Then you remembered the grip on your ankle. Human or other - slimy and thin. 

Body freezing, you turned slowly, only to find empty woods behind you. The only sound was crickets chirping from the trees, an owl hooting somewhere far away. 

You swallowed drily and jogged to the stairs that lead to the back door of the big house. It looked like it had been built in the 70’s, certainly no later. 

You knocked once, stomach rolling with fear and nausea. No one answered. 

You didn’t support breaking an entering. Other than that one time in fifth grade, of course, but that was an accident. Other than that, breaking the law is a no-no. 

But right now, there’s some _thing_ in the woods, and you didn’t even care that the person who lives in the house might be a redneck who loved rifles and hated teenagers. So, you tried the door. It opened into a quaint, dark kitchen that looked just as old as its exterior, with old appliances and a curved fridge you didn’t realize they made anymore.

The wood floor whined beneath your feet, and you cursed yourself silently, taking softer steps. The floor creaked again, but you hadn’t moved. Your attention shot to the doorway, and you went still at the sight of a dark figure holding a bat. 

The man with the bat reached over and flipped the switch on the wall, lighting the room. 

He wasn’t a man at all. He was a boy, who couldn’t be much older than your 18, with - admittedly - beautiful hair and dark eyes. Thick brows narrowed cautiously over guarded eyes, and though you could have stared at the boy all day, he was holding a bat, and that grabbed more of your attention. 

It wasn’t like anything you’d seen before. With large metal nails hammered through, the tool could kill without even trying. 

“You make that thing yourself?” You asked, the question out before you could stop it. Inappropriate comments during chaos were your specialty, though not often well-received. Everyone has their coping methods, your best friend always said with a smile. 

“You’re not asking questions here,” he said. There was a slight dip in his tone, and you could sense the anticipation. If there was a fight, this boy was ready for it. 

“Let me explain,” you said, “before you bash my skull in.”

“You just broke into my house and you’re still making jokes?”

“I’d rather deal with you and your bat than that…whatever was outside.”

Your gaze shot toward the back your, demeanor faltering, fear lacing up your spine like cold water. You met the boys gaze again. 

“I woke up in your yard. I think someone…” or _something_, “brought me here.”

“You have ten seconds,” he said, letting the bat drop to his side. You let out a breath of relief. 

“I was running. I was running, and then something was chasing me, and I dropped my phone and it grabbed me. I passed out, and then I woke up in your back yard, and I’m really freaking out because I know for a fact there aren’t any bears out in those woods who makes noises like that or have fingers-” the boy stilled, setting the pan on the counter. 

“Fingers? It had fingers?” 

“I think so,” you said, brows furrowing. 

“Tell me what it looked like.”

You crossed your arms, a small barrier between the words you had to say. 

“Dark. Tall. Like-like human-shaped, but bigger. And so-dark. I couldn’t see much.”

The boy’s face fell, and he set the bat on the counter, pulling out a chair, and sinking into it, like a marionette whose strings were clipped. He raked a hand through his hair, mussing it up even further, light brown strands sticking every which way.

The pain flared back up in your body, forgotten with the adrenaline, and you winced, reaching down, reassessing the damage. Bloody and dirty, and you had no idea what to do about the blood that was trickling onto the floor; you were too freaked out and tired to even ask for a first aid kit. Your hands shook as you pulled out another chair and sat down.

Your gaze traveled to the wall, where an old phone hung, connected by a string and everything. The wrongness of it hit you, and you looked around the kitchen. All the appliances were old. Like, 70s or 80s old. 

“You’re hurt,” the boy said. 

“My-my legs. And hands. I guess I fell.”

His eyes fell to your legs, and he frowned. He knew something, something he wasn’t not telling you. You may not be a genius, but you could tell when someone was skirting around the truth.

“Tell me what’s going on. Tell me what that…thing in the woods was.”  
His eyes closed for a moment, before opening and settling on you.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he said, leaning on the table, brows arched in something almost like a dare. He had a secret. And the thing about secrets: they burn until you let them out. 

“Try me,” you said, leaning forward.

“You sure?”

“If something dragged me through the forest, I want to know what,” you said, eyes narrowing.

The boy nodded. Then he began to speak. He told you about the disappearance of a boy named Will Byers. About Barbara Holland, the girl who was killed. About the Mind Flayer, about the tunnels. About Star Court, and the Russians, and the gate. About the girl Eleven, about everything. And when he was done, neither of you spoke for a long time. Your mind mushed around what he said, molding it into something that made sense, like making something out of playdoh.

“Something is wrong,” you said finally, despite the fact that everything he’d said was wrong. But it was more than that; more than some monster or alternate dimension. Something else was fundamentally different. Wrong. Off. You got to your feet, and he watched as you paced the kitchen.

“I live across the woods. And I had no idea any of this was happening. But if it was as big as you’re saying, it made the news. Right?” 

“Reporters are still up our asses,” he agreed. 

You glanced into the living room. “Your TV,” you said. 

“What about it?”

You walked over to it, running a finger along its thick screen and the long antenna. You brought a hand up to your mouth and shoved down the sob threatening to burst out.

“It shouldn’t be like this.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The TV. Your house. Everything. It shouldn’t be like this.”

He shook his head, clearly crossing over to this-stranger-is-insane land. 

“What year is it?” you asked. 

“What?”

“What _year_ is it?” You snapped.

“Jesus. It’s 1985.”

You shook your head, pointing at the TV.

“That’s not possible.”

The boy moved into your line of sight, confused dotted across his features. He was also looking at you like were was mad, which was ironic, considering he’d spouted a load of nonsense - nonsense that was starting to make sense. 

“It _can’t_ be 1985.

“What do you mean it can’t be 1985?” The boy asked, a little sarcastic, but a little wary, like he didn’t want to believe what you were coming to terms with. 

“It’s 2019. I was born in 2001. I’m not - I can’t even be _alive_ yet.” 

The boy stepped back. 

“Did someone put you up to this?”

“What?”

“If this is a joke, it’s really not funny, and I’m not in the mood. We’ve been through enough. I don’t know what you want, but I’ll the cops,” he said, a wall sliding down over his eyes. You stood up, panic rising. 

“No. Please-”

“I swear. I swear, I’m telling the truth. I don’t know how I got here. All I know is that something grabbed me, knocked me out, and when I woke up, I was here.” 

He shook his head, as if cursing himself for being so stupid. 

“I promise. Please. I’m telling the truth. _Please_, you have to believe me. If I go back out there, I don’t think I’ll make it back,” you said. 

He stayed silent, and you were too tired to convince him, heading back for the kitchen and dropping into the chair. You weren’t brave enough to walk out that door, not yet. 

You expected him to make you leave, but instead, when he came into the kitchen, he had a first aid kit. He knelt on the ground in front of you and pulled out bandages and antiseptic. He cleaned your knees out and wrapped them tight, silent as he worked, brows furrowed in concentration. 

He gestured for your hands, next, and you let him clean and bandage both. When he was done, he sat opposite you, blood on his own hands. 

“Do a lot of fixing people up?” You asked.

“Like I said. Not my first rodeo,” he said, sitting back in the chair, letting out a breath. 

“What’s your name?”

“Steve. Steve Harrington.” 

“Y/N,” you said. 

His lips curled upwards, but it wasn’t quite a happy smile. 

“Nice to meet you,” he said. You couldn’t help but snort. 

“No. It’s really not.” He grinned. But just as quickly, his face turned grave.   
“Look, something happened out there. And if what you saw was some creature from the Upside Down, there’s more of the bastards than we realized. I don’t know how to get you back to-” his eyes flicked to yours, then away, “to where you came from. We’re gonna need help.” 

“Help?” 

Steve nodded. 

“I know a few people,” he said, something mischievous playing on his features. 

A rush of gratitude rushed through you for this stranger who didn’t seem to mind you’d broken in - who was helping. 

“Thank you, Steve,” you said. He met your gaze with a lopsided smile. 

“We should get some rest,” he said. “If you want to take a shower, I’ll call for backup.”

“Back up?”

He shrugged. 

“Most qualified people I know.” 

* * *

Steve led you up the stairs and to a bathroom. Despite the question swirling around in your head, battering against your skull, you knew this boy had as few answers as you did. 

“Your parents?”

“Christmas in the Bahamas. I wasn’t invited,” he said. 

“I’m sorry,” you replied, for lack of anything else to say. 

He shrugged, flipping the bathroom light on and dipping out to grab clothes. 

You stood in front of the mirror, shivering, waiting as he brought in a towel, a pair of plaid pajama pants, and a long-sleeved shirt. His cheeks flushed just the tiniest bit at your reaction. 

“You’re taller than my mom. This is all I’ve got,” he said. 

“It’s fine,” you said. For a moment, you both stood still. Then Steve cleared his throat and backed out, closing the door behind him. 

Once he was gone, you grabbed onto the edge of the counter, taking deep breaths until you were sure you wouldn’t cry. 

You weren’t someone who liked to show weakness, certainly not in front of a stranger. But with everything that’s happened tonight, all you want to do is curl in a ball and sob your eyes out. 

You meet your gaze in the mirror, hair covered in twigs and dirt and slime, dark purple bruises forming beneath your eyes. Like a wild creature. You felt bad for Steve; no wonder he’d brought the bat with him. 

You finally got into the shower, washing the goop off and scrubbing until your skin ached, dressing in the clothes of a boy you’d met twenty minutes ago. A cute boy, but one who’d been through hell. You felt bad about dragging him right back into it. 

Considering wearing a stranger’s clothes wasn’t anywhere near the weirdest part of the night, it didn’t bother you; you were just grateful to be clean and dry. You toweled your hair, tossing your filthy clothes into the trash and heading out into the hallway. Only one door was cracked, light bleeding through, and you headed toward it, opening the door to find Steve setting up the bed. 

“I’ll take my parents room for the night,” he said. You shut the door behind you, arms crossed tightly against your chest. 

“No,” you said. His brows furrowed. Your cheeks flushed and you dropped your gaze. 

“I’m not kicking you out of your room. And honestly…” you lifted your eyes to his, “I don’t want to be alone. Not tonight.” 

His own cheeks took on a pinkish color, and he nodded a few more times than necessary. You took a few steps closer to the bed and pulled the sheets back, laying on the very edge. The mattress sunk as Steve laid down beside you, and your arms brushed on the small bed. 

Eyes on the popcorn ceiling, you tried to convince yourself nothing was going to climb out of the darkness. But that wasn’t a guarantee you could make yourself. 

“Thank you,” you said into the dark. Steve didn’t respond for so long you weren’t sure he was going to. 

“I can’t let that place take anyone else,” he said, exhaustion weighing on his words. You could hear it in his voice: the remnants of fights that took a lot and gave little. The loss dragging behind him like rattling cans on a newlyweds car. 

But as much as you felt bad about reopening that wound, you were just grateful he hadn’t shut the door in your face or come after you with that bat. And for the first time since you’d woken behind Steve Harrington’s house - years and years away from home - some of the fear slipped away, and you fell into a dreamless sleep.


	2. part ll

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for sticking with me! find me and this fic on tumblr at harringtown :)

You woke with your head pillowed on a boy’s chest, rising and falling slowly with his breath. Eyes fluttering open, you saw the dark fabric of a tee shirt. The boy had one arm around you, something vaguely familiar about his figure, and you curled further into his side, blankets tugged over you both. it was dark beneath the fabric, warm and dark and safe. You couldn't quite remember who this boy is, or how you got there, but you felt safe. Like in a dream. 

The memories slipped back into place, but right now, the world felt far away. And, you really weren’t one to complain about being curled up beside a cute boy - granted, he had threatened you, but you had broken in. This situation was far more preferable to the one you’ll have to face outside this bed. 

The one where you were, quite literally, dragged back through time. Oh, and in addition, there’s also a parallel universe with mutating monsters, and a telepathic tween. Even the worst of sci-fi writers wouldn’t be that risky with a plot.

You were content to stay in the dark forever. But it wasn’t up to you; a moment later, the blankets flew off. The daylight came bright and painfully against your eyes, squinting to see who’d removed the top of your cave. 

Standing at the foot of the bed was a class full of children. Or, at least, it felt that way. Six kids no older than fourteen or fifteen, and three your age. A pair of the older boy and girl exchanged a look, and the four younger boys grinned like idiots. 

You sat up, ignoring the aching of your body, wiping the sleep from your eyes.

Your cheeks flamed red and you shot away from Steve. Still asleep, he rolled over and reached out, as if you pull you back, making the boys snicker. The redheaded girls smacked one of them.

You took back what you’d said. You’d rather face the monster than this.   
“I really hope neither of you is his girlfriend,” you said, grimacing. One of the girls - pretty, and a little prissy looking - covered her mouth to hide a smile. The other girl scoffed, shaking her head, dirty blonde hair falling into her face. 

“He wishes, he really does,” she said. 

Steve rolled again, this time right into your side. Though you didn’t think it possible, you blushed even harder. You shook his shoulder and shifted away from him. His eyes opened, landing on you, brows furrowing in confusion, only deepening the children’s giggles. He jerked up at the noise, nearly shoving you both off the bed. When he identified the group at the end of the bed and fell back against the mattress with a groan. 

“What the hell are you doing in here?” He asked, propping himself up on his elbows.

“You sent the SOS,” said one of the younger girls - speaking cadence a little slow, hair cropped at her chin. 

“Yeah, well, I didn’t expect you to break into my bedroom,” he said, turning his attention between the young girl, one of the boys, and the eldest, “What are you doing here? Since when are you in town?”

“They’re staying with the Wheeler’s for Christmas,” the redhead explained, pacifying Steve but clearing nothing up for you. You, who still looked like the aftermath of a one night stand that hadn’t actually happened. 

“I sent out the Code Red after I got your transmission,” said a curly-haired boy. 

“At 2 in the morning, Dustin,” said a dark-skinned boy with irritation. 

“Oh, I'm sorry that an emergency was so inconvenient for you,” Dustin said. “By the way Steve, you don’t have to send an SOS just because you got laid.”

“Jeezus, Henderson,” Steve said, “she’s the SOS.”

“I don’t understand,” said one of the older girls. 

“If everyone would shut up for a minute, I’d tell you what’s going on,” he said, voice still heavy with sleep. They all obliged, quieting. 

“Thank you,” he said sarcastically, sitting up fully. 

“So?” One of the boys asked. 

“This is Y/N. She came from the Upside Down,” he said. 

“What?”

“That’s not possible.”

“A person can’t be from the Upside Down.”

“That’s insane, Steve.”

You exchanged a look with Steve. “Shut up,” you said, voice a little too loud, but effective. 

“Oh, I like her,” said an older girl, with blonde hair and a lopsided grin. 

“Y/N, this is-” Steve quickly put names to faces, naming the group, “and every one, this is Y/n. Everybody shut up and let her talk.”

They all went quiet, and so, you did. You told them everything that happened since you heard the twig snap in the forest. The grip on your ankle and waking behind the house. 

“So, you’re saying she’s not your secret girlfriend?” Asked one of the boys, Lucas. 

“If that changes, you’ll be the first to know,” you said. Steve snorted, and you hoped the blush in your cheeks wasn’t as bright as you thought. 

“We appreciate that,” Dustin said, nodding with approval. 

“You’re really from…somewhere else,” Nancy said. 

“Almost 30 years from now,” you said. 

“Do they have flying cars?” “Is there a colony on Mars yet?” “Have the Robots taken over?” The younger boys spoke all at once. 

“No, no, and no,” you said. 

“Not important right now,” Nancy said. 

“You know, I’m really starting to regret letting you give me one of those stupid walkies,” Robin said with a huff. 

“Does anyone have any idea how to fix this?” Jonathan asked, moving in the direction you were hoping for. 

“I come from a time of iPhones and social media. Time-traveling and portals to alternate dimensions aren’t exactly my thing,” you said. Brows furrowed at your words: iPhones and social media had as much meaning as gibberish. 

Jonathan turned to Steve’s desk, shoving a pile of hoodies aside to reveal a notebook. He tore a scrap of paper out and scrawled something on it before returning. 

“The flea and the acrobat?” Steve asked. Jonathan nodded, quickly explaining the concept to you. The group had settled around the room, sitting on upturned laundry baskets and the desk and its chair, some sitting on the edge of the bed with you and Steve. 

Jonathan held up the drawing and folded it in half. 

“What if it isn’t time travel?” He asked. 

“I don’t understand,” Eleven said. 

“Maybe the Upside Down is the connection. There was a hole that grabbed you, and one that spit you out. We’re acting like it was just one doorway. You were passed out; you could have gone through the Upside Down. Steve, you said her clothes were soaked. It was with that goo, right?”

Steve nodded. 

“She said she was dragged. Probably through the same place Will was,” Nancy said. 

“Is that even possible?” Lucas asked. You arched a brow. 

“I’m sitting in your bedroom in 1985. I’m like - negative years old right now,” you said. Steve’s lips curled into a lopsided grin; you didn’t miss it. 

“My parents. My parents lived in Hawkins. They’re here now. They’re just kids. What if-”

“Relax. It’s not like they’ll recognize you,” Max said. 

“Not really the point, kid,” Robin scolded. 

You climbed off the bed, entire body telling you to get out, to go home. But there was no home to find. There was nowhere to go. 

“What do we do?” You asked, turning to face them when you’d reached the window, the morning sun bathing the street outside in yellow light. 

“We need to figure out what brought you here, and kill it.” 

“The heart. We need to kill the heart,” Mike said suddenly. 

“What?”

“When we closed the gate, we cut the connection. When we killed the Mind Flayer, we killed the brain. And none of it worked. It can’t just be the brain. You can survive without a brain, even if you’re a vegetable. But what’s the one thing everything needs?” He asked. 

“A heart,” Nancy said. “Like coma patients. They’ll survive, even if they’re brain dead, as long as their heart is still pumping.” 

“How do you kill the heart of a place?” Steve asked, as confused as you were. 

“I don’t know.” 

“But if we kill the Upside Down…” Max said. 

“We can’t get Y/N home.” 

For a moment, no one spoke, minds tossing and turning over the idea, the new problem. 

The biggest priority was not getting you home. You knew that. You knew that if this continued, if the heart pumped its venomous blood, it would take from her time and this one, possibly more. 

The Upside Down had to die. 

“How the hell do we kill an entire parallel universe?”

“I have no fucking idea,” you said.

* * *

The group dispersed soon after, off trying to find solutions, or at least, the beginning of one. You couldn’t bring yourself to talk about the Upside Down, or your minuscule chances of getting home anymore. You’d all talked possibilities until your ears bled.

The next item of business for you and Steve: clothes. You couldn’t exactly wear his pajamas for the next - however long you were stuck there. You’d have been happy with a thrift shop, but ten minutes later Steve was pulling into the Sear parking lot. You spent the entire drive staring at the other cars, with designs that had gone out of style long before you were born.

He led you to the women clothes, and though the styles seemed outdated, you realized it only felt that way to you. The two of you came to a stop in front of shirts and dresses like those Nancy wore. You crinkled your nose, shaking your head.

“All of this is…it’s too much. I mean-that skirt would go down to my _shins_.”

“They don’t sell anything like you were wearing last night,” Steve said. “Unfortunately.”

You grinned, shoving down the blush.

“We’re known to be a little less…prudish.”

“Prudish?” He asked, arching a brow. You shrugged.

“I’m looking forward to that in the future,” he said.

You rolled your eyes, moving further down the aisles until you found the jeans. You grabbed a pair of dark sets, already hating how little stretch they had, and handed them to Steve. You piled tee shirts into his arm next - all dark, plain, and soft. You grabbed a flannel and a jacket, and when you were done, Steve dropped it all on the counter.

“There’s no way it's that cheap,” you said, watching the cashier ring it up.

“Wish you’d brought your wallet. We could probably buy the building with whatever’s in there,” he said.

“Hilarious.”

* * *

“God, these pants are horrible…” you complained, stretching your legs out in the tight fabric of the jeans.

“You could always put those leggings back on,” Steve said, popping a jelly bean into his mouth and holding out the bag. Shopping turned out to be neither of your favorite things, and you ended up in the candy section of the grocery store, stocking up and settling on the bench outside to feast.

“In your dreams,” you said.

“Absolutely.”

Your cheeks flushed, but you laughed. Harmless flirting - that’s all it was. That was all it could be. El and the others were researching, exploring, trying to figure out where the hole to the Upside Down. You, Steve, and Robin’s job, after their actual jobs, at least, was to figure out where the hole was on your side. But with 30 years of change and construction between the map, it was going to take time to figure out what was different and what had stayed the same.

But it was still borrowed time. Soon, you’d be going home, and Steve Harrington and the kids and monsters would be a thing of the past: literally.

Nothing could happen between you and Steve Harrington. Believing differently would only send you farther down the hole you were stuck in.


	3. part III

The video store Steve worked in was nearly identical to the Blockbusters you remembered from your childhood, and you considered warning him about the emergence of the video chain that would inevitably kill this little shop. But it had such a particular aesthetic, with horridly bright green and red paint and too many cardboard cutouts of actors and actresses, that you didn’t want to think about the little place going under. Plus, Steve didn’t need to know his job - and everyone else’s in the store - would be sacked when the Blockbuster monopoly hit. And then by Redbox, then Netflix. Far too complicated for you to explain. 

Robin sat at the front desk, donning a green vest with her name and FAMILY VIDEO written across it. She lifted her head when you approached the counter and smiled. 

“Steve! You’ve got a customer!” She called toward the back room. 

“I’m on break, Buckley!”

“She’s asking for you, dude!” 

“God, seriously, Robin, I have ten minutes-”

You and Robin snickered as Steve pushed through the employee room door, holding a half eaten corn dog. A smile lit his face when he saw you and he tossed the corn dog in the trash. 

“Oh, hey. It’s you.”

“It’s me,” you said, an involuntary smile tugging on your lips. Steve leaned on the counter, bumping Robin’s shoulder. 

“God, get a room,” she said. Steve knocked his shoulder against hers, and she shifted away, sticking her tongue out at him. 

“You’re here for mapping?” Robin asked. 

“Here to try. I don’t exactly have the town’s blueprints memorized.” 

“No? I figured that was a staple in the curriculum,” Robin said. You grinned, moving around the counter to join the pair behind it. Robin reached into the cabinet beneath the counter, pulling out two rolled posters. One was blue; when unrolled, a map of Hawkins. At least, Hawkins in 1985. Though you didn’t know your own Hawkins back to front, you were relieved that you were able to spot a few discrepancies: roads that weren’t there anymore, a neighborhood that had been turned into an outlet mall, the forest spreading farther out. 

Next, she unrolled a paper of identical size, this one blank, and put them beside each other. 

“Nancy and Jonathan took the kids to look for the hole on this side. Which leaves us with the fun job,” she said. 

“The fun job?” You asked. 

“Locating the heart.”

Steve threw his hands up. “Oh, great.”

“Relax, dingus. The Upside Down is just, like, an alternate version of Hawkins, right? And our little time traveler,” Robin said, “came from Hawkins. Her own version of Hawkins, but still Hawkins, right?”

You and Steve exchanged a glance and shrugged. 

“So, it’s safe to say, that it ends where Hawkins does. Our boundaries are the Upside Down’s.”

“You think,” Steve said. 

“I think,” Robin conceded. 

“It sounds good to me,” you said, “certainly not the craziest thing I’ve heard.”

“Even if you are right, how do we find…the heart of a _place_?” Steve asked. 

Robin crinkled her nose. 

“To prove a hypothesis, you have to conduct the experiment.”

“And by ‘conduct the experiment’….”

“He means we have to go in and find it.”

“Oh, fantastic!” Steve exclaimed, stepping back. “It’s not like that entire place is a poisonous shit hole filled with demon dogs and mind flaying slugs. Sure! Why not! Why don’t we make a day out of it? Bring a picnic?” 

“The Mind Flayer is dead. So are the demagorgons,” Robin said. 

“Then what grabbed Y/N?” He asked, arching his brows. Robin had no answer for that. 

There weren’t really answers for anything. This was desperately grasping at straws you couldn’t see and hoping they weren’t needles. 

“I’ve been thinking about that. About why I’m here,” you said. 

“Wrong place wrong time,“ Steve said. 

“No. It’s gotta be more than that.” 

“More than that…how?”

“Harrington, this isn’t social hour. No customers behind the counter,” said a boy with messy light brown hair and a bag of Cheetos in his hand. He pushed through the employee room door, frowning when he saw you, Steve, and Robin, effectively killing the conversation. 

“It’s homework, Keith,” Robin said. 

“Don’t care. No. Customers. Behind. The. Counter. _Capiche_?” He asked. Steve opened his mouth to reply, but you took a step toward the boy - Keith - and tried to smile as sweetly as possible. 

“Keith, is it? I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you,” you said, holding out a hand. He ignored it, practically scoffing. 

Alright. Time to switch tactics.

You took another step toward him and jerked your chin toward a poster on the wall - Star Wars: Return of the Jedi. 

“Are you a fan?” You asked. He frowned, and looked back at the poster, then at you. 

“Uh…yeah. Of course. Best cinematography since Alien.”

That was it. Your smile widened, and you reached out to touch his arm, gently and just for a moment, but long enough to cement his attention on you. 

“You know, my dad’s friends with George Lucas. He was talking about another film or something like that. I could tell you what I heard…” you said, glancing back at Steve and Robin. 

“But, I mean, if I’m not allowed to stay…” you said. 

“You can stay!” Keith blurted. You did your best to hide your smile. 

“Well, it turns out there’s another trilogy planned,” you said. Keith’s jaw practically hit the floor. 

“Three more? Three more movies?”

_Technically, 8. _

“Three more. Prequels, I think. It’s all about Anakin Skywalker, and, like, how he went to the dark side,” you said as if you hadn’t seen every movie. 

Something like a moan slipped past his lips. You grinned. 

“That’s all I know. Sorry,” you said, trying to look innocent. 

Keith hesitated, glance darting toward a Star Wars poster on the wall, and met your gaze. 

“You can stay,” he said.

* * *

It turned out your knowledge of your Hawkins wasn’t as extensive as you wished. Sure, you’d been driving a few years, but seeing how little there was to do in town for people your age, driving typically meant driving _away_. You had vague memories of bus routes and shops and restaurants you’d gone to growing up, peeking out the back seat window of a minivan. But that wasn’t enough to blueprint the entire town. 

“I mean, it’s not bad,” Steve said, stepping back to survey the large white paper, covered in black and blue ink. You’d only been able to definitely draw the city line for half of Hawkins, which would make finding the center impossible. Plus, the forest in 1985 spread farther than yours, cutting through future roads and identifying landmarks.

“It’s shit,” you said. 

“Yeah…it’s pretty terrible,” Robin said, scrunching her face. 

Steve shook his head, shoving the paper aside with ink-stained fingers. 

“How do we even know there’s a heart to kill? Or that it’s in the middle? We don’t even know if the Upside Down spreads beyond Hawkins,” he said, raking a hand through his hair, making it stick up in all directions. 

“We don’t know,” Robin said. 

“Then why the hell are we doing this?”

“Because we have no other choice,” she retorted. 

“Hasn’t this place, or thing, or whatever the fuck it is, taken enough from you? Steve, if that gate stays open, there isn’t just a hole on your side. There’s one on mine. If we don’t kill this thing, what’s to stop it from opening more? From infecting the entire world, the whole timeline?” You asked. 

“I have no fucking idea what to do. But if I don’t try, everyone I love is in danger. And there’s no Will to warn us. This thing - it learned from its mistakes. It’ll get better. We can’t let it. Unless you don’t mind forsaking sunlight, and, oh, you know, your free will.”

Steve groaned and dropped his head on the counter. Robin patted his back and rolled up the papers, shoving them beneath the counter. 

“I think that’s enough mind-bending for today. If I have to draw another street I’m going to impale myself,” Robin said.

-

“You’re sure you’re never heard of me? Like, from the future?” Steve asked for the 7th time from where he lay sprawled on his back on the counter, tossing a child’s forgotten bouncy ball up and down. You snorted from the carpet, removing the hand tossed over your arms. 

The store was still open, technically, but no one had been in for hours. In the hour since Robin left, you and Steve had accomplished nothing but laying down. 

“Oh, yeah, I forgot, you’re a famous actor. Big name,” you said. 

Steve sat up, looking down at you, adorably gullible, brows arching and lips parting. 

“Shit, seriously?”

“No.” 

He huffs and rolls, slipping off the counter and dropping to the floor, crawling over to you and propping himself up on his elbows. 

“Not cool, dude. I’m serious,” he says with an exaggerated pout, lips pink and plump and…

You shouldn’t be thinking about his lips. You shouldn’t be thinking about him, about anything but getting home. But, god, with him that close, hair somehow still perfect after hours of work, it’s hard to focus on anything but him. Only him. 

Your lips pulled up in a smile. 

“Sorry. Haven’t heard of you.”

He shrugged, head lolling to the side, mouth quirking upwards. 

“Damn. Was kinda hoping you could just tell me what I’m supposed to do. ‘Cuz I’ve got no idea,” he said, tone light, words serious. 

You paused, rolling onto your stomach and mirroring his position, closer than you should be and making no effort to move away. 

“What are you good at?” 

“No idea on that one, either.” 

“Me neither, if that makes you feel any better. Especially now.” 

He frowned. You noticed the small imperfections you couldn’t see from further away; a crooked nose, a tiny scar running from his bottom lip to his chin. His lips parted, eyes dropping to your mouth like he’d just noticed the closeness, too.

“You’re pretty good at saving people, from what I’ve heard,” you said softly. His brows furrowed. 

“I’m not. I didn’t do shit for Barb, and Hopper…” that wasn’t his fault; you’d heard enough of the story to know. But from meeting the others, it seemed they all carried that weight on their shoulders. 

“You saved me.”

“All I did was let you stay in my house. Not quite a heroic act.”

“It was to me.”

His gaze fell to your lips, again, and you knew what was coming before he leaned in. You moved instinctively as if both drawn together by some magnet. He hesitated a centimeter away, breath warm on your lips. 

If he hadn’t paused, you’d have let him kiss you. And you wanted him to, so, so badly. 

“We can’t,” you said. He pulled away, eyes snapping open, hurt flashing across his face.

“We can’t. We can’t, because as soon as we figure all this out, I go home, and you - all of you - forget about me. But I won’t. Thirty-five years will go by for you, but it’ll be _moments_ for me.”

His jaw clenched, and he sat up, a wall sliding down over his eyes. 

“We can’t start something we won’t get to finish,” you said, almost pleading with him, aching for the open and light Steve from a few minutes ago. 

“Yeah. Sure. Whatever. You got it.”

“Steve-” you pleaded. He climbed to his feet, and you followed, but his back was turned, cold and stiff. 

“I’m gonna lock up,” he said, “Let’s just go home.”

He was uncharacteristically quiet for the rest of the night. Granted it had only been a few days, but he certainly wasn’t the silent type. 

When you got back to the house, he took a blanket and pillow to the floor, turning to face the wall. Only once you were nodding off did you hear him speak.

“For the record, I don’t think I could forget about you,” he said. But you were too close to sleep to reply, drawn into the dark.


	4. part IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was mostly written at 1 in the morning while i was at work but hey! its a chapter! we'll take it!
> 
> find me and this fic on tumblr @ harringtown :)

“Would you stop that?” Robin scolded, swatting a stick from Max, who was jamming the branch into the hole at the base of the tree. While the hole looked translucent, easy enough to move through, none of the sticks or rocks they’d tried had passed the thin barrier of mucus. Seeing as you’d been dragged out that exact hole, no one could figure out why.

It was the kids who’d found the hole - the one you’d presumably come through - half a mile back from Steve’s house, just big enough for a body to fit through. Now that they’d found the hole, they’d have to go inside. And when they went inside, they had to find the center. It sounded simple enough in theory; find the middle, blow it up, kill the Upside Down, and get the hell out. 

In reality, they had to figure out a rough area the center could be with two different maps and manage to find it without getting killed. Which was far less simple. 

“Nothing’s come out or in all night,” Jonathan said. 

“Nothing can go in or out. It’s like it’s locked,” Nancy said. 

“Locked? What the hell does that mean?” Steve asked. 

“It means, we go back to square one,” Nancy said. 

“We spent hours looking for this hole. If Y/N came through it, then why is it broken?” Max asked. 

“Can a portal to another universe even be broken?” Asked Lucas. 

The questions and possible solutions quieted as you focused on the hole. It was almost like a web, slippery and sticky. It didn’t look locked. You took another step toward it, kneeling on the twigs in front of the tree. Reaching out, you tentatively pushed your fingers into the barrier, expecting to be stopped, only to watch your hand disappear. You could feel the goop on your fingers, the cool air on the other side of this thin wall. 

“Uh, guys?” You asked, pulling back and standing up, wiping the mucusy gunk off on the trunk of the tree. Attention grabbed, the group huddled around you. You held up your hand, still glistening, eyes going wide. 

“So, it’s not locked,” Dustin said. 

“Oh, it’s locked. But I think we just found the key,” Steve said, lips curling up in a wide grin.

You stretched a foot out, double-checking, toe slipping past the wall of goop and into the tree - into the Upside Down.

“Explains why you’re here, too,” Robin said. 

“Why she’s here? What do you mean?” Mike asked. 

“Well, obviously it wasn’t random. If we can’t get inside, we can’t do anything. And we can’t get inside without Y/N. There’d be no way to open the door.” 

“So, you’re like, an interdimensional cockblock?” Steve asked, nodding his head. You scoffed, crossing your arms. 

“Thanks,” you said. 

“It’s not a bad thing!”

“_How_ is that not a bad thing?”

“Guess I’m adding another strike to the metaphorical whiteboard, after all,” Robin said. Dustin grinned but dropped it at Steve’s glare. 

“So, Y/N goes in and goes home while we…find the heart of an alternate dimension and kill it,” Nancy said. 

“Simple enough,” Jonathan replied. They exchanged a private smile, one saved for each other. It made your heart twinge with longing, eyes finding Steve without intention. He met your gaze, lips parting to speak-

A growl sounded through the trees, and the leaves shook with its force. It wasn’t a sound you’d heard, but the looks on everyone else’s face were enough to turn your blood cold. You turned to face the forest and a tall, dark silhouette slipped closer, stepping into the sunlight. 

A creature like that didn’t belong in a place like this. Human in shape but monster everywhere else; spindly fingers with sharp nails, emaciated gray skin, and the face of some mutated Venus flytrap. 

They’d told you the name. Demogorgon. Fear - a familiar fear - washed over you, locking you in place. 

“El,” Nancy urged, voice laced with fear. 

“She can’t,” Mike hissed, he and El shifting closer, fingers twining together. 

“Shit,” said Dustin and Nancy collectively. 

“Abort mission. Abort mission,” Lucas said, pulling a slingshot from his pocket with one hand, grabbing Max’s hand and tugging them back with the other. The others followed suit, tripping backward before turning and running the hell away. 

From here, the closest safe zone was the road. Not far away, but not near close enough for comfort. 

The creature roared behind you, face splitting open and saliva flying out, picking up speed as your ragtag group stumbled through the dark forest. It was still day, but amidst the thick trees, there was only dim light to navigate. This wasn’t your forest, your path nowhere to be found, feet finding rough purchase among rocks and jutting roots. 

You saw a flash of light brown - Steve, darting around a tree - and nothing else before blades sliced into your side, dragging you down. Like liquid fire tearing your skin apart, heat spiking. You hit the ground, hard, pain hitting harder. With the breath knocked out of you and whatever had happened to your side, there would be no getting up. 

Hands - multiple pairs - dragged you up and onto your feet, voices a loud cacophony in the chaos. But your legs were no longer under your control, giving out the moment you were on your feet, pain alight as you moved. 

Someone pulled you into their arms, running and running and running. A loud noise tore through the sky, and it took a moment to realize it was you, entire body burning red, the world flashing in and out until it finally found the dark.

* * *

  
“She’ll be okay, Steve,” Nancy said, coming to stand behind him, a hand on his arm. Steve pulled his focus from your pale, unconscious body to her, hair just a little unkempt, one of Jonathan’s jackets around her shoulders. 

The sight might have hurt, before. Before, it might have been Nancy he’d followed through the trees. 

But the moment the Demogorgon wailed, he could only focus on you. You, unfamiliar, fear filling wide eyes at the sight of the creature. It was you he’d stayed beside. 

You he hadn’t been able to protect. 

He’d carried you back, while the others distracted the Demogorgon with rocks and bigger rocks.

And there you were, unconscious on the couch in Mike Wheeler’s basement, which bandages wrapped around where the monster slashed you. After sending the rest of the kids home, only Mike, El, Jonathan, and Nancy remained. 

Luckily for all of them, the Wheeler’s were gone for the night, convinced by Joyce to take a night to themselves (if themselves included Holly, as it always does, at least). Luckily for them, that meant a place - a person - to bring you. 

“It shouldn’t have happened. If I’d been paying attention-” Steve said, guilt slamming into his chest like a truck. 

“This isn’t your fault, Steve,” she said. He met her gaze over his shoulder, trying to believe her, but failing. He should have figured it out sooner. Figured out that you were the key that unlocked the door. Figured out that the gatekeeper couldn’t be far behind. 

But he didn’t. And you’d almost died. 

Nancy tapped his arm, drawing his focus back to her. 

“You weren’t a shitty boyfriend, by the way,” she said, “You just were shitty for me. And… I was shitty for you. But you’re good, Steve. I mean that.” 

He held her eyes for a long moment, practically watching the dynamics shift and slide, settling into new places. A place where their history didn’t define their future; where Steve and Nancy could regain some semblance of the friendship they’d lost when they’d broken up. 

When he looked away, he asked, “You ever think we’re cursed?”

She didn’t answer for a long time, but he could tell what she was thinking about. About Barb and Hopper and Bob and all the casualties. The shadow they couldn’t outrun, no matter how hard they tried. 

“I don’t know,” she said, “sometimes it feels like it. But curses can be broken.”

It wasn’t something the Nancy from high school would have said. But, then again, he wasn’t the same person as he had been, either. He didn’t want to be, not anymore. 

“She’s gonna be okay,” Nancy said again, giving him a reassuring smile before heading to the small table El, Mike, and Jonathan sat at. 

Joyce was double-checking your bandages; she wasn’t a doctor or a nurse, but she was an adult with an uppercase A and had been able to stop the bleeding.

He moved to sit on the armchair beside the couch, brows furrowed as he watched her carefully pull your shirt back down over the bandage. 

“How’s she doing?” He asked. Joyce lifted her gaze to his and he was relieved to find the fear she’d had in her eyes at her first sight of you, bloody and unconscious, was gone. 

“She’ll pull through, as long as we keep those stitches in,” she said. Steve nodded, raking a shaky hand through his hair. 

“This one means a lot to you?” She asked. He hesitated before nodding. 

“Jonathan told me. How she got here. What you have to do,” she said, face contorting, like the thought of her children diving into that hole in the tree made her want to throw up. It probably did. 

Steve felt a familiar longing for Hopper. Not that he knew the man well enough to really warrant missing him. But Hopper had been an integral chain in the link that had brought them all to that point, that had allowed them to survive. He may not have known what to do, but he’d have taken the pressure off them.   
But there was no Hopper, no one else to protect them or make the hard decisions. 

“God knows I can’t stop any of you. But I can ask you to stay safe. To try and stay safe,” she said, looking at him with a tenderness that should have been reserved for only her children. Steve’s lips curled up on their own, and he said, “We’ll try.” 

* * *

  
You’ve gotten used to waking in unfamiliar places after a week in 1985, so coming to on a random couch in a small basement wasn’t anything big. The ache in your side, however, was new. You opened your eyes, shifting over, pain flaring with each movement. You searched for Steve, the one consistency in the days of confusion. 

He sat on the carpet, leaning against the couch, head pillowed on his arm, face turned your way. Three lines of blood raked down one cheek; too large to be fingernails. Besides the cuts, though, he looked relatively unharmed, peaceful in his sleep.

You reached out to nudge his shoulder. When he didn’t stir, you pushed a bit harder, and his eyes snapped open, head jerking up. Fear filled his eyes and he scanned for a threat, only to still when his gaze settled on you. The fear turned to relief, and he leaned back into the couch, a weight tumbling off his shoulders. 

“You’re okay,” you said. 

“I’m okay? You almost get killed by a monster from another dimension, and you’re worried about me?” He asked, amusement playing across his features. 

“I passed out. I don’t-is everyone-”

“Everyone’s fine. Only person who took a beating is you,” he said. You relaxed back against the couch cushions, a little woozy, but mostly relieved.

“How are you feeling?” He asked. 

“Like a hackysack after recess,” you grumbled, tugging the blankets up further around you. Steve laughed - it was a beautiful noise, even though it didn’t belong in a makeshift infirmary, and a little bit of the pain trickled away. 

“You kinda stole all the action back there,” he said, “No time for my big hero moment.”

“Big hero moment?”

“Oh, yeah. Roll in, kill the monster, save the damsel in distress…”

You laughed and reached out to take his hand, his body stilling at the touch. 

“Sorry to ruin the moment,” you said. “But I think you still nailed the last part.”

His face darkened and he looked away, hand pulled to his side. 

“If I had, we wouldn’t be here.”

“You’re right. I’d be a dead body on the forest floor.”

“You wouldn’t be hurt at all-” 

“Steve.”

He still didn’t meet your gaze. You pulled your hand free and used two fingers to guide his chin, forcing him to look at you. 

“I’m fine,” you said. You surveyed the room. The basement was sparse, with a folding table covered in snacks, the couch and armchair, and a few other various knick-knacks. 

“Where are we?”

“We’re at Mike and Nancy’s house. They’re upstairs with El and Joyce. Robin took the others home. Everyone’s sleeping.”

You nodded. You didn’t think you could live with yourself if any of them got hurt for you - because of you. You’d poked the bear, and it came running after. You should have known or figured it out faster. 

“Joyce?” You asked. 

“Will and Jonathan’s mom. She stitched you up.”

“She’s a doctor?”

One side of Steve’s mouth quirked up. Even scraped up and exhausted his smile warmed you and dulled the pain. 

“She works at the general store. Got you pain meds, too,” he said. 

“I’ll have to thank her,” you said. 

“You need to get some rest.”

You met his gaze, moving your head to lay closer to him. 

“Thank you,” you said. 

He frowned, but before he could say anything, you continued, “and don’t make me argue with you about it.” 

The frown turned into a soft smile, and he nodded, leaning forward to press a kiss to your forehead, fingers ghosting your cheeks before he pulled away and dropped his head back onto the couch cushion. And maybe it was the pain meds kicking in, but the pain wasn’t near as noticeable after that, allowing you to slip into sleep. 


	5. part V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dont expect a lick of plot in this part!!! part 5 isn’t interested in furthering the plot, part 5 is 2500 words of completely self-indulgent fluff and angst!! ur welcome!!!

After three days of bed rest and dipping in and out of sleep, you woke clear-headed in Steve’s bed. You vaguely remembered being driven back to his house at Joyce’s request. Mike and Nancy’s parents may be oblivious, but _another_ injured stranger taking refuge in their basement wouldn’t go unnoticed.

It was dark outside and the room was illuminated by the soft yellow light of a lamp. You pushed yourself to a sitting position, the first time you’d been able to do so in days, taking in the room. A pillow at the end of the bed, where Steve had curled up to sleep, afraid to get too close for fear of hurting you. Bottles of painkillers and fresh gauze on the desk. A small trash can on the ground full of red and white gauze.

The bathroom door popped open and steam billowed out, closely followed by Steve, a towel around his waist. His skin shone with leftover water droplets, and your gaze fell to his navel, to the line of hair leading beneath the towel.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, words dragging your focus back to his face.

“Hmm?”

“You’ve been in and out for a few days. Scared the hell out of me, you know. I thought we were in the clear after that first night,” he said, pulling open a dresser drawer and tugging out a pair of boxers and pajama pants. He stepped behind the door, and though he was blocked by the wood, your cheeks flushed when you saw the towel hit the floor.

“I’m sorry,” you said. He stepped back into view, toweling off his hair, mouth turned down in a frown. He crossed the room to drop down onto the bed beside you. He was far too close to be shirtless, but the thought didn’t seem to cross his mind.

“This wasn’t your fault.”

“Wasn’t yours, either.”

“You’re impossible, you know that?”

You grinned.

“I do.”

“How are you feeling?” He asked again.

“Just a scratch.”

“Yeah, that’s bullshit.”

You shrugged, “the painkillers are working fabulously.”

His lips quirked up. By painkillers, you hadn’t just meant heavy doses of oxycontin. He had just as great an effect. You were tired of pretending otherwise. 

You reached out tentatively, fingers grazing his collarbone. He sucked in a breath and a line formed between his eyes. Your hand drifted higher, up the side of his neck, thumb tracing the line of his jaw.

“You said-you said we-”

Maybe it was the drugs. Maybe you just didn’t care enough to hide it anymore.

“I don’t care what I said.” You pushed yourself further up, carefully maneuvering closer. Steve didn’t move an inch like he feared doing so would make you change your mind.

“I tried not to care. I tried not to care about you and your stupid beautiful hair and you and your dumb jokes and-I’m tired of pretending I don’t care. I’m tired of pretending that’s not what I want.”

“And what do you want?” He asked. The answer was obvious, but he wanted to hear you say it. _Needed_ to.

Your hand settled against his cheek - the uninjured one, of course.

“You, dummy,” you said, “obviously you.” His lips parted, and you wanted them on yours so badly you could barely think. You’d spent every moment since you woke up in the dirt pretending you didn’t want to kiss him, repeating it to yourself like a mantra.

“Here I was thinking you couldn’t stand me,” he said, lips curling upwards as he bent toward you, noses bumping.

“Like I said. Dummy-”

He caught your mouth in his and cut you off, hands cupping your cheeks, his fingers fire on your skin. He kissed you gently, like a question, not daring to push it any further than you wanted. Sweet, gentlemanly, but unnecessary. You didn’t want careful. You wanted to burn.

Your lips parted against his, defenses tumbling. It was like coming home, like puzzle pieces sliding into place. There would be no turning back from here. And you didn’t care. 

You twined your fingers in his hair - the way you’d ached to for over a week - and _tugged_, earning a soft noise from the back of his throat. His heart thrummed against his chest and his skin was hot where it touched yours, and leaned further into him, aching to be as close as possible.

His fingers grazed your waist and carefully tugged up the shirt. You angled to help, only for pain to shoot through your side. You broke from his lips and gasped, scrabbling to find a position that alleviated the flames.

Steve, who’d shot up at the movement, knelt back on the bed, face pained.

“Shit, I’m so-”

“That one was my bad,” you said, catching your breath. Steve stared at you like he’d never seen you before.

“I’m fine. I’m not going to break,” you said, slowly shifting closer to him again, careful of your side. His head tilted to the side, lips pursed. You’d seen Steve in a lot of situations in the past two weeks; asleep, afraid, happy, tired, etc. But this was new. This…eyes open wide like a child’s, plump lips parted, gaze darting between your eyes and your mouth.

“What happened to starting something we can’t finish?” He asked.

“I don’t care. I just-I just want you. For as long as we get.”

“Yeah?” he bent closer, lips curling upwards.

“Yeah,” you said, pressing your lips to his, stomach flopping at his touch.

“We should probably make up for lost time, then,” he murmured against your mouth. You smiled and threaded your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer.

“What’d you have in mind?”

His nose grazed yours and he dragged its tip up the bridge of your nose before pulling back.

“Tomorrow night. I’m taking you out.”

“Taking me out?”

“A proper date. A shitty movie and shitty popcorn and no monsters.”

You grinned. “You had me at shitty popcorn.”

* * *

“You know, they have rides at amusement parks for this movie,” you said, taking the Treasure Island tickets from Steve as he shoved his wallet back in his pocket. Once he’d freed his hands, he reached out and took one of yours, threading your fingers together.

The ache in your side had almost dissipated and only twinged when you stepped on your left leg. But in the old movie theater - which, you realized, was only old to you - with its butter smell and funky carpet, with Steve holding your hand and balancing a popcorn in one arm, it felt normal. Like a typical girl and boy going on a date.

“It better be good, then,” Steve replied.

“I bet they’ll give you a refund and a profound apology if it’s not.”

Steve snorted, meeting your gaze with a smile. The scratches on his face had scabbed, the redness surrounding them lightening, leaving a pretty face with a few lines.

“Wait, did we get the Reeses pieces?”

Steve made a face. “I’m still not sure about this popcorn and chocolate thing.”

“Good thing I didn’t ask if you were,” you said, grinning, “Can I have some cash? I’ll run and grab it.”

“If you run, you’ll pass out,” he countered. You pulled your hand from his to flip him the bird, and he smiled as he pulled out his wallet and tugged a fiver out, handing it to you.

“And if you’re not nice, you won’t get any sugar. Chocolate or otherwise.”

“Please, never say that again.”

“What? Sugar?” You asked, stretching up on your toes, brushing your lips against his. He leaned into you, lips parting, but you pulled back before he could deepen the kiss with a wicked grin. He groaned, snaking a hand out to catch your wrist.

“Not cool.”

You tucked the cash into your pocket.

“Be back in a sec,” you said. Steve squeezed your hand once, not letting go until he had to. You’d just dropped his fingers when a voice made Steve stiffen like he’d been hit.

“You have to pay for it now, Harrington?”

You turned to find a boy and two girls your age approaching. The ringleader, with dark hair and too many freckles, grinned like he’d just told the funniest joke in the world, and the blonde and redhead beside him looked unimpressed.

“The hell do you want, Tommy?” Steve asked through gritted teeth.

“Oh, come on, Steve! Introduce us to your date? If she’s cheap, I might take a go,” Tommy said. The blonde on his arm rolled her eyes, but when they settled on Steve, there was hatred in them.

“You’re gonna want to shut the fuck up, Halloway,” Steve warned.

“What? Don’t like us talking bad about your harlot?” He asked. Steve’s hands tightened into fists, and you grabbed his arm to keep him from swinging at the other boy’s face. Not that he didn’t deserve it, the asshole.

“He’s not worth it, Steve,” you urged in a low voice.

“How far King Steve’s fallen!” Tommy announced, voice drawing the attention of bystanders.

“We’re not in high school anymore, dipshit,” Steve retorted.

“I mean, first, you get dumped by _Nancy Wheeler_ of all people, and now, you’re paying girls just to be seen with you-”

You didn’t hit him because you were angry, or because you were upset. You hit him so that Steve didn’t. You hit him because you wanted to.

You lunged and slammed your fist into his nose, knuckles finding purchase with a sickening _crack_ followed by a steady stream of blood. Tommy groaned as the pain rolled in, eyes widening in shock as his brain caught up with his body.

“Holy shit!” Steve exclaimed as Tommy fell back, butt hitting the carpet, a hand coming up to cup his broken nose.

“Holy shit,” Steve said again. Pain had sparked along your abdomen, wetness spreading along your shirt, but it was worth it for the look on Tommy’s face as he gaped up at you. The girls with him stumbled back when you took a step toward Tommy, and a grin tugged on your lips.

“You’re gonna have to re-break nose that before you set it if you don’t want to look even more ridiculous than you already do, _dipshit_,” you spat, narrowing your eyes at the boy on the carpet. You weren’t sure whether the shock or the blood streaming down his chin had rendered him silent, but you were just glad not to hear his stupid voice anymore.

You met the blonde’s gaze - her eyes full of hatred and fear for you, the crazy stranger - and arched your brows in a silent question. You’d definitely reopened your stitches, and your hand throbbed, but you were more than willing to throw one more punch.

The girl huffed and knelt beside Tommy, the redhead following suit as you turned and made your way back to Steve, the pain finding a home now that the adrenaline had worn off. The elation in Steve’s eyes dissipated at the sight of you: pale-faced, favoring your left side, a tiny patch of red bleeding through your shirt.

“Jesus,” Steve cursed, wrapping an arm around you and catching the weight you couldn’t bear to carry anymore.

“I’m okay,” you huffed.

“You’re not, which is why I’m taking you to the bathroom,” he said, leading you toward a handicap bathroom and pulling you in. You let go of him and leaned against the wall as he locked the door.

He came to stand in front of you, concern woven into his features, and reached to tug your shirt up, hands hesitating a few inches away. You nodded, and he carefully lifted your shirt. A few days ago, you might have blushed at taking off your shirt in front of a boy, but seeing as he’d been changing your bandages for days, the modesty had disappeared.

Setting the ruined shirt on the counter, Steve turned his attention to your stomach. His fingers ghosted across your skin, bringing pain and something else, something pleasant and fluttery. You held your breath, tense beneath his touch.

“The stitches held. They’re just…I don’t know, leaking a little bit. I’m not a doctor, so honestly, you _might_ die,” he said with a shrug, meeting your eyes with a smile.

“That’s reassuring,” you said.

“What you did out there-I mean, that was incredible. Like, really badass.”

“I had to knock his ego down a peg. I mean, the guy was practically in the sky.”

“Oh, I think you knocked it down more than a peg. He’s never gonna live that down.”

You slung your arms around Steve’s neck, smiling.

“Yeah?”

“Never,” Steve assured you.

“Good. My legacy here can carry on after I’m gone,” you said. The words were meant to be a joke, but Steve took them like knives, stiffening and pulling out of your grasp.

“Steve-“

He shook his head, turned partly away from you, and raked a hand through his hair. “You know, I forgot. I actually forgot for a whole ten seconds that you…”

“That I can’t stay.”

His jaw clenched. You crossed the small bathroom and took his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you.

“Look. Can we just pretend, for a little bit longer, that things are normal? That this is a normal date? That…we didn’t come in here so you could check my stitches because a monster from another dimension tried to kill me?”

He held your gaze for a long moment, the frown giving way to a wicked grin, “And what did we come in here to do?”

“I’m not saying it.”

“You have to.”

“Or what?”

“Or,” he said, “You won’t get any _sugar_ from Steve.”

You snorted, shaking your head, and shoved the remaining giggles down your throat.

“That was, an I’m not exaggerating when I say this, fucking terrible,” you said.

“What are you gonna do about it?” He asked, arching a brow. You took your bottom lip between your teeth, pausing only a moment before pulling him to you. His hands found your waist, careful of the bandage, and you shuffled backward, dragging him with you.

You hit the marble sink, a hand falling to steady yourself. Steve broke from your lips long enough to say, “Jump,” before he kissed you again. You did as he said, and he caught you, lifting you up onto the sink. If you hadn’t been so drunk on the kiss you might have thanked him for not making you stand any longer, so you settled for the unspoken, nudging his lips apart with your tongue.

“Sorry we’re missing the movie,” you murmured against his mouth. His lips traveled down your cheek, skimming your jawline.

“It’s okay. I’ll just wait for the ride,” he said, and brought his lips back to yours.


	6. part VI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last part was fluff but today, we’re riding the angst train! and we’re nearing the end! get pumped! 
> 
> as always, find me on tumblr @ harringtown to yell about stranger things or request fic!

Three weeks in a time that wasn’t your own. Three weeks that your family and friends had spent wondering and aching and crying over your disappearance.

It shouldn’t have felt as normal, as comfortable, as much like home, as it did. You certainly shouldn’t have been enjoying it. You should have spent every hour slaving over possible ways to find your way back.

But the thing was, going back had lost its glimmering appeal. It was non-negotiable: if you didn’t go home, they’d never be able to shut the gate for good. The Upside Down would continue its slow infection. Going home was inevitable. And the thought made you sick with dread.

Now that you were healed enough to walk around without getting winded, the wheels had resumed turning. And the first task was reconnaissance. Since nothing was easy, recon meant diving into the belly of the beast with you leading the charge. And if you were doing that, you were doing it armed.

With the holiday break over, Joyce had taken El and Will back for school with a promise to come on the weekend and Jonathan, who was happy for an excuse to stay with Nancy longer, had remained. They’d all promised Joyce not to try anything _too_ stupid before she got back.

That was how you ended up outside of the gun store with Robin and Nancy, a too-excited Steve bounding inside like a kid in a candy store with Jonathan behind him.

“So, they can just walk in there, and buy one? Without even giving an ID?” You asked from the passenger seat of Steve’s car.

“Yep,” Robin said, “It’s concerning how little the government cares about us measly peasants donning shotguns.”

“So long as you don’t turn it on them, they couldn’t care less,” you said.

“The whole point of the second amendment was to arm the common man in case their government turned on them again. But nobody reads the fine print anymore,” Robin said.

“It’s only downhill from here,” you said.

“I guess you’d know,” Robin said, and you could hear the grin in her voice.

“Have you thought about what you’re going to say? When you get home?” Nancy asked. You stiffened. You’d avoided the topic of going home in your mind for a multitude of reasons, one of them being the fact that you couldn’t tell anyone where you’d been.

You tipped your head back against the seat, eyes falling shut.

“I have no idea,” you said. “If I say I ran away, they’ll want to know where and how. If I tell them I was…I don’t know, taken…then there’s a manhunt for someone who doesn’t exist. And I can’t exactly tell them the truth.”

“Your family will just be happy to have you back. Even if you can’t tell them how,” Nancy said.

“I hope you’re right,” you said.

“If she’s not, just look me up. You can live in my guest house!” Robin said, grinning wide.

“If I get kicked out, I’ll be on your doorstep.”

She and Nancy laughed, and you found yourself missing them already. There was more time, just a little bit, but it would never be enough. Nancy and Robin would be grown up by the time you were born. You were a blip, an anomaly. But you were grateful for the seconds you’d managed to steal.

“How does Steve feel about you going home?” Nancy asked, soft and cautious. You stilled, stomach twisting painfully. Another thing you _really_ hated thinking about.

“Why do you ask?” You asked innocently. Nancy made a face.

“Come on. I know what a lovesick Steve Harrington looks like, remember?”

“I do, too,” Robin added, “And I concur.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Oh, it’s _absolutely_ like that,” Robin said. You shrugged, turning halfway in your seat to look at them.

“I always heard that timing is everything. I didn’t really get it until now.”

“Cruel irony,” Robin said.

“I just-if I had the choice, if I didn’t _have_ to, I’m not so sure I’d go, anymore.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. It isn’t fair,” Nancy said.

“It is what it is,” you said because if you were honest, told her thinking about it made you feel like splintering, you’d cry and not stop.

“It’s _bullshit_ is what it is,” she said.

“Yeah, well, I’m starting to learn Hawkins only deals in bullshit.”

“You know, you’re good together. I know that probably just makes it worse, but you are. Even if it can’t last, you make him happy. He hasn’t been that in a long time,” Nancy said, a drop of guilt in her voice.

“And certainly not for lack of trying,” said Robin, a tinge of sadness in her own words.

Each of them carried a shadow of loss behind them, one that you now bore, too. How could you go back to a bright world after that? Different and alone?

“He’s lucky to have you,” Nancy said, “for as long as he does.”

Always with the expiration date.

“Is it even fair of me to…to let it go on? To act like we don’t have a horrible ending coming? How is it the right choice to walk right into the water when you know there’s a shark ten feet away? We’re both going to get bitten. What’s the point?”

“You’re the one in the water,” Nancy said, “You tell us.”

“Just because it’s temporary doesn’t make it bad. I mean, the point is that it happened, isn’t it?” Robin asked. A sad smile tugged on your lips.

“That was cheesy, but she’s right,” Nancy said. “It matters because it happened.”

* * *

“I hate this. I hate that you’re going in,” Steve said as he loosened the straps on a gas mask. You brushed the stray hairs off your forehead and straightened your neck, covering his hands with yours on the mask.

“We don’t really have a choice,” you said, “But I’ll be fine. Nancy will shoot the shit out of anything that tries to follow us in, and Jonathan and Robin will keep her safe. And you’ll shoot the shit out of anything we find in there, and keep _me_ safe.”

“I still don’t like it.”

“It’s recon,” you said, as if that made it better. As if your own stomach wasn’t a torrent of crashing waves and twisting knots.

Nancy, Robin, and Jonathan, armed to the teeth with two shotguns, a machete, and a pistol, would stand guard on the outside. All you and Steve had to do was get it, find the heart, and get out. No big heroic acts that would likely end in bloodshed. After all, they’d promised Joyce. And as scary as the Demogorgon was, an angry mama bear was worse.

You took the mask from him and pulled it over your head, breathing in the stale - but non-toxic - air.

“Sooner we get this over with, sooner we can go home,” you said. And by home, you were surprised to realize you meant Steve’s house. 

Steve pulled his own gas mask over his face and picked up the nailed-bat - his weapon of choice, along with a pistol in his pocket. You’d taken one of the machete’s Jonathan had picked out and tucked it into a sheath. With all the gear - gas masks, thick layers, weapons - you felt like you were marching into battle.

The gate hadn’t changed or closed since you’d last seen it, thankfully. You approached the tree, stopping a foot away and turning to face the others. Steve adjusted his mask and gripped his bat as Nancy flicked the safety off her gun, and Robin and Jonathan started scanning the trees.

“Ready?” You asked, voice muffled by the mask.

“Nope,” Steve said, with a wink. You grinned, though he couldn’t see it, and turned, unsheathing your blade and kneeling in front of the tree. The filmy surface rippled as if it could sense you.

“Stay close, alright?” Steve said, coming up behind you. You nodded, gripped the machete, and stepped through the hole.

It took longer than one would have expected to push through, like shoving through sticky taffy rather than a waterfall. You emerged on the other side, an almost identical setting save for the darkness and goop. The same trees, the same path they’d followed to find it.

“Center of town?” Steve asked, making you jump. You hadn’t heard him push him through, but were immediately grateful for his presence. The next time you came in, you’d be splitting off on your own with no way to know if he was okay. But for now, Steve was there, and you felt some modicum of safety.

“Between your old mall and my…I think it’s an apartment complex,” you said, trying to recall the maps.

A growl reverberated through the darkness and sent ice down your spine. You met Steve’s gaze - a little hazy through the masks - and he lifted his bat. He nodded, urging you forward, and you took a deep breath before setting off.

It was a patchwork quilt of a town, a mix of buildings you recognized from your time, older ones from Steve’s, and a few that neither of you could identify. As much as the Upside Down is an alternate dimension, it was a living thing, and had mutated and formed on some of its own terms.

You made your way out of the woods and onto what appeared to be the main road. The toxicity in the air was tangible, ash and radiated flakes falling constantly. You reached up to double-check your mask was secure, picturing tendrils of poisoned air slipping through the cracks.

The growl came again, closer this time, and you and Steve wordlessly started jogging. It wasn’t easy with the extra weight of the weapons and thick clothing, but it sure beats being sliced to ribbons again by a monster.

A stitch formed in your side as you ran, turning down streets and moving through alleys, but you ignored it. You remembered the slicing and burning sensation from the Demogorgon’s claws all too well and had no interest in repeating it.

Steve was silent and focused, as if he’d flipped a switch allowing him to see only the danger you were both waiting for.

Though it likely wasn’t more than fifteen minutes, it felt like an eternity of wading through mucky, sticky streets before you found it. It didn’t look like a heart, like the thing controlling and protecting this wasteland that had been wrecking the lives of people in Hawkins for the past two years. It looked like a bubble. A big bulge in the ground, barely bigger than one of those individual trampolines for toddlers. 

“Jesus. Is that it?” Steve asked.

“Think so.”

“Right where we thought, too.”

“I guess our map making skills aren’t so bad.”

“It’s so…small,” Steve said. 

“I know. I was expecting armed guards or something. Not this.”

“I thought it would be more…impressive.”

“Don’t tell the Demogorgon. He’ll get offended.”

With the reminder of the beasts haunting this dimension, you both stilled and surveyed the surroundings.

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” Steve said. You nodded in agreement, mentally noting the heart/bubble/toddler trampoline’s location.

You almost made it back uninterrupted. But just as you turned up the path leading to the gate, another growl sounded through the trees, so close it shook them. Your mind jumped back to the last time you’d heard it so close, the fiery pain that had followed.

“Go!” Steve called. You picked up the speed, only stopping when you reached the familiar hole in the tree. Steve slammed into you in his hurry to get away, and you hit the sticky ground. The ground shook as the monster got closer, and you scrambled for your machete, only to see it a few feet away.

But Steve still had his pistol. Reaching over him, you yanked the gun from his pocket, lifting it and flicking the safety off just as the Demogorgon reached you. 15 rounds. 15 shots for cover to get Steve - and you, though he was your priority - back home.

“Go, now!” You yelled, dragging him to his feet and shoving him as you lifted the gun and shot at the creature’s mouth. He didn’t get the chance to argue, his momentum sending him tumbling backward. He disappeared through the hole and relief surged through you.

Claws swung at your face, catching your jaw before you were able to jump back and fire again. You did nothing but fire and fire and fire as you backed up, pulling the trigger even as you tumbled back through the hole.

You landed on the grass beside Steve, who was already scrambling to his feet and yelling at the others to run. The moment you were on your feet you took off with the others, not stopping until you’d all reached the road uninterrupted.

* * *

You scrubbed your skin raw in the shower back at Steve’s house, letting the hot water burn through the remnants of the Upside Down. After twenty-five minutes under the heat, you still felt the cold crawling up and down your spine. Unshakeable.

The cuts on your side had healed enough not to warrant stitches and the skin around it had started lightening to scar coloring. Its constant sting had died off, and the wound only protested when you pushed yourself too far. Soon, it would be nothing but a scar and a story you couldn’t tell.

After dressing in pajamas you exited the bathroom to find Steve had returned from the other shower, tired and a little miserable looking.

The euphoric bubble you’d spent the last few days in had inevitably popped. How could it not? You’d found the heart. That weekend, when Joyce returned with Will and El the group would be gearing up for real and going in. And when they all came out their gate, you’d part ways and go through your own.

“You hungry? I can cook us something,” Steve said, padding into the bedroom and shutting the door behind him. His long-sleeved shirt dwarfed him, likely taken from his parent’s room after his shower, and he looked like a little boy standing in front of the door.

“I just want to go to bed,” you said, which wasn’t true, but it was close enough. There were a lot of things you wanted, but it was time to accept you might never get them. Or, at least, never get to _keep_ them.

Steve nodded, relieved at your words, and crossed the room, climbing into bed and flopping onto his back, tossing an arm over his face. You flicked the lamp off and joined him. But while you’d curled right into his arms every other night this week, tonight, you didn’t know if you could - or should - push past the invisible line.

Luckily - or not, depending on how you looked at it - Steve made the decision for you, rolling and wrapping his arms around you as soon as the dark settled over the room. He pulled you against him and you tucked your chin into his chest, breathing him in, trying to commit everything to memory.

In a few days, memory would be all you had. A picture in your mind that would fade over time and a ghost you already doubted you could shake.

It wasn’t like you were dying, or he was. There would be no tragic parting with the knowledge you’d never see him again.

You _would_ see him. You’d see all of them. But they would have a lifetime on you, 35 years of growing up and learning and changing that you had to wait on. How badly you wished you could do it together.

But the world wasn’t fair. Not to you, or Hawkins, or to anyone in this town. Pretending different would only make it hurt worse than it already did.

Tears welled in your eyes and you squeezed them shut in an attempt to force them back, praying Steve didn’t feel the moisture through the fabric. Your hands slid up his chest and you clutched the fabric of his shirt in your fists, trying not to shake as sadness settled heavily on your lungs.

Steve stilled, hands moving to your shoulders to nudge you back gently, allowing him to see you. “Hey,” he murmured, “What is it?”

“I don’t want to go,” you said, voice small and scared like a child’s, choking the words out. Steve’s lips pulled thin,

“Oh, angel,” he said softly. A sob burst through your lips unintentionally, tears following. He pulled you back against him, ducking his chin to press his lips to your temple.

“You know I’d let you stay,” he said. You tilted your head back to meet his gaze, his own eyes red and watery.

“It’s not supposed to be like this. It’s not fair,” you said. You should have learned by now that didn’t matter. Sometimes, all you have is all you ever will, even if you hate it. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for coming into you and everyone else’s lives and fucking it up again.”

“Hey. You didn’t fuck anything up,” Steve said, brows furrowing, “you’re actually, like, the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

The words only made you want to cry more. He kissed your forehead, again, then your nose, and finally your mouth. 

“Look, we don’t have a lot of time left. But we do _still_ have time. It’s not over until the fat lady sings,” he said. You snorted, the laughter coming out of nowhere. You drew his face down to yours, pressing your lips to his for a long second.

“It’s not over yet,” he said.

“No,” you said, “It’s not over yet.”


	7. part VII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we almost made it lads!! next part is the finale!! also, ill be posting an alternate ending sometime after the last chapter, so be on the lookout for that!! this fic wouldnt have been possible without yall, so thank you for the support and love!!!

Tomorrow afternoon, you, Steve, Robin, Nancy, and Jonathan were going back into the belly of the beast in the hopes of ending it. Keywords: in the hopes of. There were no guarantees that it would work, that you’d be able to kill it, that you’d all survive, that you’d make it home, etc., etc. There were no guarantees of any kind. There wasn’t even hope, really, not for you.

After all this time, going home felt more like obligation than reward. Going back to a place that didn’t know you anymore, to people who had become strangers.

“This is how you want to spend my last night on earth? Baking shitty cookies?” You asked from your position on the counter, ankles bobbing rhythmically against the cupboards below you. Steve slipped out of the pantry, balancing flour, chocolate chips, and other baking supplies in his arms. He dropped them onto the counter and turned to face you, features contorting.

“You’re not dying tomorrow,” he said, “and I’ll have you know, this cookie recipe is anything _but_ shitty.”

“I _could_ die,” you pointed out.

“And Robin says I’m the drama queen,” he said, pulling a pink and green apron off its hanger and looping it around his waist, readjusting the tiny pink felt flowers sticking off the fabric. You snorted.

“What the hell is that?”

“It’s my moms!” He protested, patting the patterned fabric with a frown.

“Yeah, I can see that,” you said, lips curling up in a grin. Steve stepped toward you, pushing your knees apart and positioning himself between your legs.

“Don’t pretend you aren’t into this!” He said, tying the straps into an uneven bow on his front. You tugged on the loops to even them out and let your hands climb up to settle on his chest.

“You got me,” you said, “this is the most attracted to you I’ve ever been.” He grinned and pulled away, moving around the kitchen and pulling out bowls and cookie sheets. You hopped off the counter once he had everything out and fiddled with the radio, stopping on Phil Collins’ One More Night. Steve, who had cracked an egg into the bowl, caught your eye over his shoulder with disapproval.

“Too soon?”

“Only thirty or so years,” he said, pointing the whisk at you. You frowned.

“You worried about balding? Or getting a beer belly?” You asked. He flicked the whisk at you, a few drops of egg landing on your shirt.

“Fuck you,” you said, snatching a paper towel and dabbing at the stains.

“Gladly,” he retorted, giving you a wink before returning to his bowl. You smiled and flipped again, bouncing around until you landed on Cyndi Lauper and Steve yelled for you to stop. He’d managed to cover himself in flour in the minute since you’d turned around, but that didn’t stop him from crossing the kitchen and taking your hands. You let him pull you against his chest, flour particles filling the air around you, a hand in yours and another on the small of your back.

“I don’t know how to dance,” you warned.

“Oh, you’re in luck! You’re standing before an A+ earner in ballroom dancing. In P.E.,” he said with a grin.

“Oh, P.E.? You must be really, really good.”

“Are you physically capable of not being sarcastic? Is there an off button somewhere?” Steve asked.

“You’ll have to find it,” you said, waggling your brows and attempting to disentangle from his arms to find a cloth.

“Nope, no going anywhere,” he said, snaking a hand out to catch your wrist.

“Come on, I’m-”

“Covered in flour,” he said. You looked down at yourself; despite a few flecks, you were relatively clean. But Steve had a devious look in his eye that had you questioning how long that could last.

He dunked his hands into the bag of flour and pulled out fists of white powder. Your eyes widened and you screeched as you darted away from him. The kitchen, though, was in his domain, and he’d maneuvered in front of you in seconds, planting his hands on your cheeks long enough to douse you with powder. His hands shifted to your waist, pulling you out into the middle of the kitchen again. You let him twirl you, swaying and darting around the kitchen in something that might have been dancing if not for all the laughing and stepped-on-toes.

“You’re getting an F,” he said, fingers splayed across your back as he tugged you back against him.

“Blame it on my teacher,” you said, planting a now flour-covered hand on his cheek. He tilted his head and smiled, the gesture more that of a golden retriever than a boy. But quickly, his face shifted, smile settling into a thin line, eyes holding yours in what felt like an iron grip.

“What?” You asked.

“This place is going to suck even more than it already does without you here,” he said, shaking his head. His words landed like needles on your skin, stinging and burning.

“Can I ask you something?”

His brows pulled thin and he nodded.

“Do you regret it? Saving my life? Getting dragged into this?” You asked. Part of you hoped he said yes. It would make things easier. It would make walking away less like ripping off a limb and leaving it behind. Less like ripping out your heart and leaving it behind.

Part of you wondered what the carnage on your own heart would be once you’d killed the Upside Down’s. If it would be survivable.

“Are you kidding? No. Not even a little bit,” Steve said. His hands moved to your waist, fingers gently nudging up the fabric of your shirt to reveal the scars from the Demogorgon’s claws. They’d healed, but his touch opened them with a new type of fire.

“If you did, I’d understand,” you murmured as his fingers grazed your hips, moving to grip your waist. You sucked in a breath, eyes falling shut.

“I don’t,” he said, not an ounce of doubt in his voice. Then his mouth was on yours, all heat and flicking tongues and parted lips, his fingers tracing fire wherever they went.

“Last night on earth, right?” You asked, breaking away and pulling back to meet his gaze with waggling brows, “Might as well go out with a bang.”

Steve snorted, eyes bright and wide, and then you were laughing, too, laughing so hard your stomach hurt. He kissed you again, a bit of a struggle with all of the giggles, but making it work. You wound your arms around his neck and he backed up, only stopping to tell you to _jump_, catching your legs and guiding you onto the counter, cookies forgotten. You shoved a bowl aside and ignored it as it clattered to the floor, hooking your legs around Steve’s waist, aching to be closer, closer, always closer.

His hands moved to your shirt, nudging the fabric up, up, up and over your head, tossing it to the floor. His joined soon enough, a collection of fabric and flour and discarded cooking utensils on the floor.

“Your parents-” you said.

“You’re not seriously thinking about my parents right now.”

“If they walk into the kitchen, then-”

Steve pressed his lips to yours and pulled back, lips curling up in a wicked grin.

“Out of town, shockingly. It’s just you and me,” he said. You smiled.

“Well, then in that case…” you said. You found Steve’s mouth with yours again, pulling him close.

In a lot of ways, it did feel like your last night on earth. Somehow, the world had tunneled until the only pieces of it you wanted to keep were right in front of you. You knew better than most that no one is entitled to their dreams. No one is entitled to anything more than what they have, right now, wherever they are.

Your right now was Steve Harrington. There would be no more, no after. There was no forever to ask for. There was just now. And you were determined to make it enough.


	8. part VIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we made it, yall! we made it to the end! thank you so much to everyone who has supported and reblogged and commented on this fic because it means so so much and i wouldnt have been able to finish it w/o you! find me and this fic on tumblr @ harringtown :)

The twelve of you stood just outside Steve’s backyard, five of you gearing up for what could be a battle. The younger kids had fought Joyce tooth and nail in an attempt to let them come with you, Robin, Nancy, Jonathan, and Steve, but she hadn’t budged an inch. She was already a buzzing ball of anxiety, fluttering around all of you and double-checking weapons and gas mask straps.

“You’ll come see us?” El asked, the younger kids gathered around you to say their goodbyes. You’d already said them to Nancy and Robin and assured them you’d call and let them know you were safe as soon as you could.

Tears welled in your eyes but you smiled through them, wrapping El and Max in a hug. The boys hesitantly joined, forming a big group hug on the lawn.

“I promise,” you said. “As long as you guys promise not to forget about me.”

The kids pulled apart, faces filled with various levels of sadness. The girls, Mike, and Dustin had tears in their eyes.

“Never,” Mike said.

“Good. I expect big things from you kids.”

Next was Joyce, who came over to hug you, gripping you tightly in the way only a mom could.

“You be careful in there,” she said, pulling back to look at you.

“I will,” you said. Someone cocked a gun behind you and you glanced over your shoulder at Steve, loading his shotgun. Your stomach twisted painfully.

Joyce smiled sympathetically and brushed the stray hairs from your forehead, drawing your attention to her.

“I know it hurts,” she said, “but I promise you’ll be alright. You’re strong.”

“I don’t know if I’m _that_ strong.”

She smiled. “You are.”

A hand touched your arm and you turned to find Steve, who jerked his chin toward the trees. You gave Joyce a quick hug before following him, moving until you were just out of sight of the others.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Steve said.

“You’ve fought these things before. If it shows up, you know what to do. All we have to do is-”

“Not that,” Steve said. You frowned and crossed the short distance between you. Steve’s head drooped, shoulders sagging.

“We don’t have a choice.”

Steve lifted his head and shook it, flushed and frustrated, but sad above all, the sorrow tearing through the roaring anger, making him wilt. 

“We-I’ve-lost everything twice already. I can’t do it again. Not you,” he said, sounding young and fragile, not at all like the hot-headed, brave boy from the stories.

“We can’t close the gate with me on this side. That’s why I was brought here,” you said, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek. His brows furrowed, but he leaned into your touch.

“It’s time to end this,” you said.

Steve shook his head again, backing up.

“By the time you get back, or however the hell that works, I’ll be…”

“Old.”

He blinked rapidly, shrugging his shoulders.

“I bet you’ll still have that hair,” you said. His lips curled up in a small, lopsided smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“I wish I could stay. I wish I could stay forever and grow up here, with all of you. But I have a life. I have people that are missing me. And if I don’t go, it’s not safe for them, and it’s not safe for you. I can’t risk all of that happening because I want more time.”

“It’s not enough,” he said, like a child.

“I think we got lucky. We got more time than we were ever supposed to have.”

“I don’t want you to go,” he said. Your heart tore in half and you grabbed him by the shirt, pulling him against you, arms winding around him. He hugged you back fiercely, face buried in your hair, his fingers gripping your sides.

You pulled back to look at him, determined to memorize the lines of his face, the scars and the bumpy nose and the hair and the thick, pink lips. You ran her fingers through his hair, tugging him back to you and pressing your lips against his. His hesitation came from his pain, but his resolve disappeared and he kissed you back with a fierce intensity. Your lip stung, reopened with the pressure, but you couldn’t bring herself to care, not even when you tasted copper. Steve didn’t seem to mind, either, pressing closer.

It was the last. That fact was blisteringly obvious, woven into every touch and movement. It was the one to hold onto, like the first. There was something shattering in the knowing, a pain so big it was almost numbing, in watching the door start to slum shut behind them.

“Don’t you dare forget about me, Harrington,” you whispered against his lips. He smiled, fingers tangled in your hair, mouth hot on yours.

“Not a chance.” He tipped his forehead against yours, arms slung around you.

“Everyone gets rid of them where I’m from, but promise me you’ll get a home phone. It’ll be listed, so I can find you. Let you know I get home safe,” you said, lips quirking up.

“Hilarious,” he said, “but I promise. Anything for you.”

“Anything?”

His lips quirked up suggestively, though it wasn’t the time or place, and the _Steve_ness of it made your chest ache. You’d miss him, _god_, you’d miss him.

“Stop being so hard on yourself. When I look you up, I know you’ll be someone great. You’ll get there. You’ll figure it out. Even if you don’t think you will,” you said. 

“I want to figure it out with _you_.”

You reached up and brushed your thumb across his cheek before letting your hand settle. He leaned into your hand and closed his eyes.

“It’s time to go,” you said. Steve opened his eyes and pulled you against him, burying his face in your neck. The hurt yawned open inside you, plucking the breath from your chest. You wanted to stay here, right here, forever.

For a moment, you pretended you could, pretended it wasn’t all about to end.

The reality was too hard to face. The reality was this: you were going home, and when you got there, Steve would be grown. All of them would be. Even the little ones. They’d all have lives of their own. And you’ll still be at the beginning of yours.

You pulled back and tilted your chin up, kissing him softly. His lips parted against yours for one blissful moment before you broke away.

“Ready?” You asked.

“Not at all,” he said, one side of his mouth quirking up.

“Me neither.”

Steve took your hand, threading your fingers together. He looked down at your hands and back up at you.

“Stay together. Until we can’t.”

“Until we can’t,” you agreed.

* * *

For three whole minutes, everything was fine. The five of you made your way through the hole and into the Upside Down without fault, halfway to the town square without interruption.

Nancy heard the growl first. The second was loud - and close - enough to send you all into action, weapons raised and pace quickening. By the third, you were at an all-out run, the others following you and Steve through the dark, murky streets.

You snuck a glance back; the Demogorgon was gaining speed, and another had turned the corner to join it.

“Go!” Nancy screamed, stopping long enough to shoot twice before running again. The five of you raced toward the stop sign, tripping over debris and things that used to be alive.

Nancy, Jonathan, and Robin stopped as the first creature reached you, their shots piercing your ears. You and Steve slammed to a halt and turned to fight, raising your guns. The second creature was nowhere to be seen, and its absence your stomach dropped. These things had one job: protect the heart. You knew it wasn’t going to let you through without a fight. It was there, somewhere, and you couldn’t see it. You opened your mouth to yell - to warn them - but the first Demagorgon’s mouth split open and the roar that followed drowned out any other sound.

Everything happened so fast. The creature roared again, and something silver flashed in your peripheral vision, and then something sharp was shoved through Steve’s stomach, and the world moved a mile a minute.

“No!” You screamed, trying desperately to run faster, to reach him. You caught him just as his knees buckled and lowered him to the ground. Robin and Nancy took up post beside you, firing at the creatures until their bodies joined Steve’s on the ground.

“We have to get him out of here,” Nancy said.

“How? Where? We can’t-” Robin rambled, her panic stringing her tight.

“Robin, Jonathan, help me carry him,” Nancy ordered. She looked at you and something unbearably sad filled her eyes.

“Can you do it? Can you do it on your own?” She asked. You looked down at Steve; still alive, barely conscious, but dying nonetheless. A scream rose in your throat and you shoved it down.

You didn’t have a choice.

“Get him out of here. I’ll do it.”

“Are you sure?”

“I can do it,” you said, heart ripping in two. You knelt beside him, brushing the hair from his pale forehead. He didn’t have much time; you didn’t, either. There would be more enemies to fight the longer this took.

You pressed your lips to his clammy forehead, trying to hold onto the way his skin felt against yours, and then stood, pulling one of the knives from the sheath around your waist.

“Save him,” you said to Jonathan and Robin, who knew now wasn’t the time to niceties or more goodbyes. They carefully gathered Steve in their arms. He let out a moan at the movement, making tears well in your eyes, but you had to trust they’d get him home.

Nancy reloaded her shotgun.

“I’ll keep those things off you as long as I can,” she said.

“Thank you,” you said, “for everything.”

“Thank you for ending this,” she said. And then they were all gone, and you were alone with Steve’s blood on the pavement and Demagorgon’s lurking in the shadows.

You only needed a moment. Just a moment. You took off running, darting around cars and debris. A shot rang from the direction of the gate; Nancy.

You found it again, the bubbling bulge in the ground, pulsing and bright and alive. You dropped to your knees in front of it, images of Steve flickering behind your eyes. Then you plunged the blade into the bubble. It ripped open and liquid burst out, burning your skin, but you didn’t stop. You stabbed and cut and slashed until the light went out, and when the fire licking your skin was too much, you let go, falling back to the ground, the knife falling with you.

* * *

You woke in the forest just the way you had all that time ago, covered in burns and bruises and abrasions. The worn path through the trees was undeniably yours; which meant that this was, undeniably, your time.

That fact hurt more than all the aches and stings on your body combined. A sob bubbled up in your chest and you clamped a hand over your mouth, buckling. You dropped to your knees, hands finding purchase in the dirt.

The hole was closed. As if it had never even been there at all. As if you’d never gone anywhere at all.

When the hurt subsided enough for you to move you made your way home slowly and found parents grieving over a child they thought was long dead, long gone. It felt that way, like part of you _was_ gone. Part of you had been left behind.

After hours upon hours of being grilled, your parents let you go to bed with promises to go to the police in the morning. You had no answers to give them regarding where you’d been; they hoped the cops would be a little more effective. It was a shock to be back in such a technological world, and it took a full five minutes for you to remember your laptop password.

The first thing you searched: Steve Harrington. You wrote down the first number listed, ignoring the pictures; you didn’t want to see them yet. Your heart told you to find him, but he wasn’t the same Steve you knew.

You just needed to know he was okay. Last you’d seen him, he was dying.

Your fingers shook as you punched in the numbers and you sunk to the floor, clutching the phone tightly.

“Chief Harrington.” The voice was older, deeper, but unmistakably his.

“Steve,” you breathed. He didn’t reply for a long time; you only knew he was there because you could hear him breathe.

“It’s you.”

“Chief, huh? As in, Chief of police?”

“That’s the one.”

“Wow.”

“Not what you expected?”

You couldn’t help but smile.

“No, it makes sense. Makes total sense.”

“Y/N,” he said. Your stomach flipped; she could still hear Steve beneath the new one.

“It’s been a long time. For you, I guess,” you said, suddenly shy. Another pause.

“I’m guessing asking to see you would be a bad idea,” he said. A sob clawed its way up your chest. All of a sudden, you missed him so badly you could hardly stand it.

“Yeah, I…”

“It’s too hard right now,” he finished.

“Yeah,” she said.

“I’ll handle everything on this side. The investigation into your disappearance. You don’t have to worry about any of that.”

“Thank you,” you said. “Can I ask you something?”

“Course.”

“Are you happy?” You asked. You wanted him to say yes; you wanted him to say no. Two pieces pulling you apart.

“I am.”

“Good. That’s all-that’s all I wanted.”

“Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

“Not a chance, Harrington,” you said, smiling through the knife in your chest.

“Goodbye, Y/N,” he said.

“Goodbye, Steve.”

You dropped the phone to the carpet and drew your knees up your chest, wrapping your arms around them. Your heart was splintering, shattering inside you.

You wanted to go back. You wanted to run back into the forest and claw the hole back open. You wanted to duck through and find Steve and stay there.

You kept yourself away for a week. Then, when you could look out your window without wanting to cry, you walked the familiar path and went to the tree that had brought you home. Only a scratch on the bark remained.

Then, and only then, did you let yourself cry. For the boys and Eleven and Max. For Nancy and Jonathan and Robin. And, of course, for Steve. For all of it. A life you could have taken part in, even if it wasn’t rightfully yours.

A lifetime had passed since you left Steve Harrington bleeding in the Upside Down. Years, and years, and years. And for him, the time has clearly healed his wounds. Time has made the loss fade away.

But for you, it’s just beginning. You have an entire life ahead of you. Things to do and places and to go and people to love. And that, you realized, was the strangest thing of all.


	9. alternate ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i call this: i worked very hard on the logistics of the original fic and that was the only ending that worked, but im also a self-indulgent emo fuck, and am willing to disregard my own created world logic for a happy ending! 
> 
> the first two sections are very similar to the OG ending, but the third section is the legit alternate ending! I figured it was easier just to post the whole chapter with the reworked elements rather than jumping in mid part so! sorry ya gotta scroll! (Also catch my agents of shield reference in there at the end lol)

The twelve of you stood just outside Steve’s backyard, five of you gearing up for what could be a battle. The younger kids had fought Joyce tooth and nail in an attempt to let them come with you, Robin, Nancy, Jonathan, and Steve, but she hadn’t budged an inch. She was already a buzzing ball of anxiety, fluttering around all of you and double-checking weapons and gas mask straps.

“You’ll come see us?” El asked, the younger kids gathered around you to say their goodbyes. You’d already said them to Nancy and Robin and assured them you’d call and let them know you were safe as soon as you could.

Tears welled in your eyes but you smiled through them, wrapping El and Max in a hug. The boys hesitantly joined, forming a big group hug on the lawn.

“I promise,” you said. “As long as you guys promise not to forget about me.”

The kids pulled apart, faces filled with various levels of sadness. The girls, Mike, and Dustin had tears in their eyes.

“Never,” Mike said.

“Good. I expect big things from you kids.”

Next was Joyce, who came over to hug you, gripping you tightly in the way only a mom could.

“You be careful in there,” she said, pulling back to look at you.

“I will,” you said. Someone cocked a gun behind you and you glanced over your shoulder at Steve, loading his shotgun. Your stomach twisted painfully.

Joyce smiled sympathetically and brushed the stray hairs from your forehead, drawing your attention to her.

“I know it hurts,” she said, “but I promise you’ll be alright. You’re strong.”

“I don’t know if I’m that strong.”

She smiled. “You are.”

A hand touched your arm and you turned to find Steve, who jerked his chin toward the trees. You gave Joyce a quick hug before following him, moving until you were just out of sight of the others.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Steve said.

“You’ve fought these things before. If it shows up, you know what to do. All we have to do is-”

“Not that,” Steve said. You frowned and crossed the short distance between you. Steve’s head drooped, shoulders sagging.

“We don’t have a choice.”

Steve lifted his head and shook it, flushed and frustrated, but sad above all, the sorrow tearing through the roaring anger, making him wilt.

“We-I’ve-lost everything twice already. I can’t do it again. Not you,” he said, sounding young and fragile, not at all like the hot-headed, brave boy from the stories.

“We can’t close the gate with me on this side. That’s why I was brought here,” you said, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek. His brows furrowed, but he leaned into your touch.

“It’s time to end this,” you said.

Steve shook his head again, backing up.

“By the time you get back, or however the hell that works, I’ll be…”

“Old.”

He blinked rapidly, shrugging his shoulders.

“I bet you’ll still have that hair,” you said. His lips curled up in a small, lopsided smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“I wish I could stay. I wish I could stay forever and grow up here, with all of you. But I have a life. I have people that are missing me. And if I don’t go, it’s not safe for them, and it’s not safe for you. I can’t risk all of that happening because I want more time.”

“It’s not enough,” he said, like a child.

“I think we got lucky. We got more time than we were ever supposed to have.”

“I don’t want you to go,” he said. Your heart tore in half and you grabbed him by the shirt, pulling him against you, arms winding around him. He hugged you back fiercely, face buried in your hair, his fingers gripping your sides.

You pulled back to look at him, determined to memorize the lines of his face, the scars and the bumpy nose and the hair and the thick, pink lips. You ran her fingers through his hair, tugging him back to you and pressing your lips against his. His hesitation came from his pain, but his resolve disappeared and he kissed you back with a fierce intensity. Your lip stung, reopened with the pressure, but you couldn’t bring herself to care, not even when you tasted copper. Steve didn’t seem to mind, either, pressing closer.

It was the last. That fact was blisteringly obvious, woven into every touch and movement. It was the one to hold onto, like the first. There was something shattering in the knowing, a pain so big it was almost numbing, in watching the door start to slam shut behind them.

“Don’t you dare forget about me, Harrington,” you whispered against his lips. He smiled, fingers tangled in your hair, mouth hot on yours.

“Not a chance.” He tipped his forehead against yours, arms slung around you.

“Everyone gets rid of them where I’m from, but promise me you’ll get a home phone. It’ll be listed, so I can find you. Let you know I get home safe,” you said, lips quirking up.

“Hilarious,” he said, “but I promise. Anything for you.”

“Anything?”

His lips quirked up suggestively, though it wasn’t the time or place, and the Steveness of it made your chest ache. You’d miss him, god, you’d miss him.

“Stop being so hard on yourself. When I look you up, I know you’ll be someone great. You’ll get there. You’ll figure it out. Even if you don’t think you will,” you said.

“I want to figure it out with you.”

“I wish we had that choice.”

“Why can’t we?”

You reached up and brushed your thumb across his cheek before letting your hand settle.

“You know why,” you said, “You can’t come with me. You have a life here. I can’t take that away.”

“You’re my life.”

“You’ll find another one. A better one.”

He frowned, but leaned into your hand, his eyes fluttering shut.

“It’s time to go,” you said. Steve opened his eyes and pulled you against him, burying his face in your neck. The hurt yawned open inside you, plucking the breath from your chest. You wanted to stay here, right here, forever.

For a moment, you pretended you could, pretended it wasn’t all about to end.

The reality was too hard to face. The reality was this: you were going home, and when you got there, Steve would be grown. All of them would be. Even the little ones. They’d all have lives of their own. And you’ll still be at the beginning of yours.

You pulled back and tilted your chin up, kissing him softly. His lips parted against yours for one blissful moment before you broke away.

“Ready?” You asked.

“Not at all,” he said, one side of his mouth quirking up.

“Me neither.”

Steve took your hand, threading your fingers together. He looked down at your hands and back up at you.

“Stay together,” he said.

“Until we can’t,” you said. Steve didn’t say anything else.

-

For three whole minutes, everything was fine. The five of you made your way through the hole and into the Upside Down without fault, halfway to the town square without interruption.

Nancy heard the growl first. The second was loud - and close - enough to send you all into action, weapons raised and pace quickening. By the third, you were at an all-out run, the others following you and Steve through the dark, murky streets.

You snuck a glance back; the Demogorgon was gaining speed, and another had turned the corner to join it.

“Go!” Nancy screamed, stopping long enough to shoot twice before running again. The five of you raced toward the stop sign, tripping over debris and things that used to be alive.

Nancy, Jonathan, and Robin stopped as the first creature reached you, their shots piercing your ears. You and Steve slammed to a halt and turned to fight, raising your guns. The second creature was nowhere to be seen, and at its absence your stomach dropped. These things had one job: protect the heart. You knew it wasn’t going to let you through without a fight. It was there, somewhere, and you couldn’t see it. You opened your mouth to yell - to warn them - but the first Demagorgon’s mouth split open and the roar that followed drowned out any other sound.

Everything happened so fast. The creature roared again, and something silver flashed in your peripheral vision, and then something sharp was shoved through Jonathnan’s stomach, and the world moved a mile a minute.

“Jonathan!” Nancy screamed, her composure falling as she ran toward him, her gun clattering to the ground. She caught him just as his knees buckled and lowered him to the ground. You, Robin, and Steve took up post beside her, firing at the creatures until their bodies joined Jonathan’s on the ground.

“We have to get him out of here,” Nancy said.

“How? Where? We can’t-” Robin rambled, her panic stringing her tight.

“Robin, you help me carry him,” Nancy ordered. She looked at you and something unbearably sad filled her eyes.

“Can you do it? Can you do it on your own?” She asked. You looked down at Jonathan; still alive, barely conscious, but dying nonetheless.

You didn’t have a choice.

“Get him out of here. I’ll do it.”

“Are you sure?”

“I can do it,” you said, heart-ripping in two - between the family you were born into, and the family that was hurt in front of you. You touched Nancy’s arm, hoping to reassure her. There wasn’t a lot of time; there wasn’t any time for more goodbyes. There would be more enemies to fight the longer this took.

“Save him,” you said to Nancy and Robin, who knew now wasn’t the time to niceties or more goodbyes. They carefully gathered Jonathan in their arms. Steve reloaded beside him, cocking the gun and lifting it.

“I’ll keep those things off you as long as I can,” he said.

“Thank you,” you said, “for everything.” It wasn’t enough, couldn’t possibly sum up what you wanted, but it was all there was.

And then they were all gone, and you were alone with blood on the pavement and Demagorgon’s lurking in the shadows.

You only needed a moment. Just a moment. You took off running, darting around cars and debris. A shot rang from the direction of the gate; Steve. The noises moved closer, and though you knew that meant they were getting pushed back, it wasn’t yours to worry about. Your priority was the Upside Down’s heart, not your own: even if your own was a trampled, bleeding, worried mess.

You found it again, the bubbling bulge in the ground, pulsing and bright and alive. You dropped to your knees in front of it, images of Steve flickering behind your eyes. You could almost swear you heard his voice, but there was no more time to hesitate. You plunged the blade into the bubble. It ripped open and liquid burst out, burning your skin, but you didn’t stop. You stabbed and cut and slashed until the light went out, and when the fire licking your skin was too much, you let go, falling back to the ground, the knife falling with you.

-

You woke in the forest just the way you had all that time ago, covered in burns and bruises and abrasions. The worn path through the trees was undeniably yours; which meant that this was, undeniably, your time.

That fact hurt more than all the aches and stings on your body combined. A sob bubbled up in your chest and you clamped a hand over your mouth, buckling. You dropped to your knees, hands finding purchase in the dirt.

The hole was closed. As if it had never even been there at all. As if you’d never gone anywhere at all.

“Jesus. I’m gonna have to take twenty showers to wash all this off.”

You jumped, scrambling back to your feet in the direction of the voice you couldn’t possibly have heard. You turned to find the one boy who couldn’t possibly be there.

Steve.

You should have been angry at him. Angry for doing something so stupid, so risky. Angry for throwing his future away for the chance of one with you. But all you were was relieved. So, so, so relieved. It was as if the boulders that had settled between your shoulders the first time you’d crossed the gate had finally fallen, and all that remained was love so overwhelming it was almost painful, in the best way.

“Steve?” You breathed.

He wiped some off the grime off his pants, meeting your gaze with a sly grin.

“Hey.”

“What are you-you-you’re not supposed to-”

“Yeah, I know.”

“How are you here?”

“I followed you,” he said as if it wasn’t the biggest thing in the world.

“What if something happens? If the gate closing with you on the wrong side…”

“The Upside Down only cared about you. I guess I’m like…a Trojan horse.”

“I’m the Trojan horse. You’re inside.”

“Whatever,” he said, “same thing.” He still had that cocky smile, like he hadn’t just risked everything.

“If something happens to you because of me, I-”

He crossed the distance between you, taking your face in his hands.

“Hey. If something happens to me, it was worth it.”

Your brows furrowed, and you asked, “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

You stared at him, stared like you’d never seen him before. You knew that, had it been possible, you’d have stayed. You’d have pretended 2019 didn’t exist until you reached it, taken the life that wasn’t rightfully yours and lived it. But Steve…Steve had no one here. Was no one here. And he’d followed you anyway.

“What? Do I have mucus on my face?” He asked.

“You jumped through a hole in the universe for me.”

“More for your mass collection of yoga pants, but yeah,” he said. Tears welled in your eyes and you threw your arms around him, infinitely grateful to have something other than memory to hold onto: the person himself.

“The others. They don’t know what happened to you. They-”

Steve pulled back and smiled.

“I might have mentioned something to Nancy. She thought it was insane, too. But I figured, if I didn’t make it back, someone should know I’m not dead.”

“We’ll find them.”

Steve’s brows knotted together.

“Dustin’s older than me, now. Hell, even Erica has twenty years on me.”

“Now you know how I feel.”

He looked around, something like confusion settling on his features. This was a world completely foreign to him. One you got to show him.

“Your parents, and the others…”

“If you’re asking if I regret it, the answer is still no. Don’t regret anything when it comes to you,” he said.

“They’ll have no idea where you went.”

“My parents already don’t know I exist. Nancy will tell them I ran away, or something. I don’t know. It’s not my problem, I guess.”

“By now, it’s definitely worked itself out.”

The words alleviated some of his guilt, leeching it away visibly.

“You’re right.”

You reached out to take his hand, threading your fingers together and looking down at them before meeting his gaze again.

“You want to see your new life?” You asked. He squeezed your hand and smiled.

“Ours, you mean?”

“Yeah. Ours,” you said.

Then, you walked hand in hand out of the trees, into a world where no one had the answers. But, for the first time, you didn’t mind. You were content to go back to a life without Demogorgon’s and without parallel universes and losing friends, so long as Steve was by your side.

A lifetime had passed since you left your friends in the Upside Down. Years, and years, and years that the others spent waiting to see you again.

But for you, and for Steve, the beginning has looped back around. You have an entire life ahead of you. Things to do and places to go and time, time above all. Time to live and time to love and time to learn. More time with Steve than you were ever supposed to get. And that, you realized, was the strangest thing of all.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Where did the time go (during the summer I spent with you)?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20780546) by [Leloca267](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leloca267/pseuds/Leloca267)


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